These are superb sonnets. Examining sonnets into a day to day existence and life itself. They open Kunitz to the peruser and the peruser to closeness, to torment, battle, living, in rich detail. The more current sonnets, composed late in his life bewilder. Educated. Save. Rich. "Summer is late, my heart." Words taken from his childhood do something amazing to make us fully aware of his, and our, later years.
He alludes regularly to enchantment and performers. He is aware of what he talks.
