Wilbur was a New England poet just as good as Robert Frost, if not better. His skilled work and craftsmanship is unsurpassed. Poems of deep feeling, intellectual rigor, and a glorious sensitivity to “the things of this world.” Unlike most writers I like, his work is optimistic and joyful. He finds the miraculous in the mundane—a hint of angel feathers in the throwing out of mop water, in waiting for a drawbridge to drop the perfect simile for the expectation of a smile from his wife. An American master. ~ Reviewed by Dafydd Wood
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