Vassar Miller is one of the more noted younger women poets; her stock-in-trade is the fresh, fervent lyric; her sensibility is both sylphlike and oddly spinsterish; her themes embrace the exigencies of love- in God, in nature, in romance. She is a stand-out less for the earnestness of her beliefs- and she certainly is earnest-than for the anti-virtuoso simplicity she employs- a one-time rarity in modern poetry now showing signs of becoming modish (Stafford, Simpson, Snodgrass etc.). When she is good she has a purity of language almost Blakean; her stumbling block is not being good often enough, as is especially the case with the volume here. About ten of the poems are finely fulfilled; many more are merely flat or fluttery. The best: a moving meditation on St. Bernard- quite supple, sustained, never slight.