The poem "Travel" reminded me of Freya Stark in it's restlessness and sense of adventure. To look at train tracks and wonder where they end up. To watch a plane make its way across the sky, the contrails fading bit by bit, and guess its final destination. Who hasn't done that? ( )

Lyric poetry at its best. The second April after her affair. The sonnet sequence that establishes her firmly as a master of that form. ( )

This is a disappointing book to read after her "The Harp-Weaver and Other Poems". The phrasing is as fine and precise as ever, but she seems restrained in her choice of subject matter, with only two ("Alms", a lovely sad poem about the death of love, and "Ebb", same subject) that tugged at my emotions. Still, this book is worth reading just for the chance to learn from some carefully-written poems how a good poem might be crafted. ( )