New and Collected Poems Book

"And doubtless it is dangerous to love
This somersault of seasons;
But I am weary of
The winter way of loving things for reasons."
-Richard Wilbur, from "Winter Spring"

What can one say about a master deserving of the title? A few of the early and middle-era poems are a tad dull with visibly trying too hard, tripping over themselves and falling into obscurity, but the later work achieves a steadily sure, spare, lucid, mellow tragedy that is sublime. Exquisite care went into every word choice in this book -- there's not a single lazily or imprecisely chosen verb, but each shines with Wilbur's gift for seeing metaphorical congruences and his sensitive attention to detail. The nonce forms vary with acrobatic suppleness, artfully braiding lines short and long, to create a multiplicity of primally affecting rhythmic cadences and achieve a unique harmony with subject and tone ("Water Walker" stands out as a particularly brilliant example). My favorite poems split themselves between the earliest and latest periods: "First Snow in Alsace," "June Light," "The Walgh-Vogel," "A Glance From the Bridge," and "Still, Citizen Sparrow" from the 1940s; "The Ride," "Alatus," "Leaving," "Orchard Trees, January," and "A Finished Man" from the 1970s and '80s. The Andrei Voznesensky translations are also a revelation, evoking a voice so fresh and original it vibrates us to the core. This is a body of work in which we can put our faith, trusting that, by its light, our eye will "never know the dry disease / Of thinking things no more than what he sees."