Loren Eiseley has died, and apparently his last legacy lies in this book of poems. Saddened by his death, his admirers will be pleased by the Stoic spirit with which he faced it. The themes of his lifework were constant and reappear here: an attempt to empathize with earlier forms of life, a sympathy with all human attempts to understand mysteries, and a perverse affection for the crabbed, ambitious, self-defeating human race. ""So did the ancient Egyptians/like all men everywhere/ elbow for place."" Time is the enemy. As he has an aboriginal speaker say: ""Why could life not have gone on forever in the autumn country?/Why did those others who came with sails/through the Barrier Reef/have to awaken time and destroy the world/the unseen necessary balance?/Why? Why?"" . . . One wonders if an editor would consider publishing these formless pastorals if they came anonymously to his desk. Man cannot, of course, think like a cloud, or a lungfish, or a mastodon, or even a modern fox. It is this contradiction that lies at the heart of all Eiseley's writings. In stretching our imaginations, he almost solves the paradox--and brings the sympathetic reader a long way with him on the journey.