A truly fine mastery of technique- a certain classical- is combined in the verse of Anthony Hecht with a great pomposity and ponderousness of thought. The attempts to be sardonic leave one unmoved; and one's withers are unwrung by the sad plight in which this young poet finds life. Nor can one have any inkling of the end of this young man, who has technique without passion, philosophy without insight. His gift will be noticed by those who follow the movements of modern poetry; his achievement will be questioned.