Thousands upon their eager tiptoes stand Straining, and almost reach the Muse's hand. A few have touched it; never man had power To clasp and hold it for a single hour. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...NOCTURNE IN A MINOR KEY by CONRAD AIKEN CONTRA MORTEM: THE BEING by HAYDEN CARRUTH A PECK OF GOLD by ROBERT FROST |