Rich rewards of life well-observed

A thousand years ago when they built the gardens

of Kyoto, the stones were set in the streams askew.

Whoever went quickly would fall in.

Thus Jack Gilbert writes in his magnificent fourth collection, "Refusing Heaven." In these elegant poems, he shows the value of patience. The reader must slow to negotiate the dense philosophical and moral issues these poems present: the nature of loss, the utility of solitude, the reconciliation of faith and suffering.

Like the gardens, this careful treading is rewarded with stunning vistas and masterfully crafted works of heartbreaking beauty.

Gilbert, 79, is the author of three other collections. His first, "Views of Jeopardy" received the 1962 Yale Younger Poets Prize. A consummate craftsman, Gilbert labored 20 years on his second, "Monolithos," a finalist for the Pulitzer Prize. "The Great Fires: Poems 1982-1992" was published in 1994.

As poetry increasingly falls into two categories (confessional-style and experimental language poetry), Gilbert refuses the modes of either; rather he forges his own path with writing that is at once intellectually dense and profoundly human. His work radiates with humility and awe, and he brings an intellectual heft that is often lacking in contemporary poetry.

W.H. Auden wrote that poetry makes us "more aware of ourselves and the world around us.... I do not know if such increased awareness makes us more moral or more efficient; I hope not. I think it makes us more human, and I am quite certain it makes us more difficult to deceive."

Like Auden, Gilbert is concerned with raising awareness without guiding it too forcefully. Rather than declare answers, he stubbornly asks how to be human in a world of loss, violence, failures and suffering.

With clear vibrant language, the poet creates a sense that you are sitting across the table from him discussing how he found joy after his wife's death, or what he learned about forgiveness from a dead friend. But he doesn't linger on the personal; it is merely a touchstone for wider moral discussions.

Gilbert has often been called a poet of loss but these poems are rich with having -- the Mediterranean sun, catching a fly ball, the lessons of solitude.

In these poems, loss, as well as solitude and absence, create rich possibilities. There is a dogged refusal to "get over" loss; instead Gilbert sees beauty within it, not in spite of it.

He writes: