"Leg over leg

As the dog went to Dover;

When he came to a stile,

Jump he went over."

Perhaps you would n't see it here,

But, to my fancy, 't is quite clear

That Mother Goose just meant to show

How the dog Patience on doth go:

With steadfast nozzle, pointing low,—

Leg over leg, however slow,—

And labored breath, but naught complaining,

Still, at each footstep, somewhat gaining,—

Quietly plodding, mile on mile,

And gathering for a nervous bound

At every interposing stile,—

So traversing the tedious ground,

Till all at length, he measures over,

And walks, a victor, into Dover.

And, verily, no other way

Doth human progress win the day;

Step after step,—and o'er and o'er,—

Each seeming like the one before,

So that't is only once a while,—

When sudden Genius springs the stile

That marks a section of the plain,

Beyond whose bound fresh fields again

Their widening stretch untrodden sweep,—

The world looks round to see the leap.

Pale Science, in her laboratory,

Works on with crucible and wire

Unnoticed, till an instant glory

Crowns some high issue, as with fire,

And men, with wondering eyes awide,

Gauge great Invention's giant stride.

No age, no race, no single soul,

By lofty tumbling gains the goal.

The steady pace it keeps between,—

The little points it makes unseen,—

By these, achieved in gathering might,

It moveth on, and out of sight,

And wins, through all that's overpast,

The city of its hopes at last.