The poet was born in New Providence, Iowa, the firstborn of Roy and Pauline Clampitt's five children.

This extraordinary collection of letters sheds light on one of the most important postwar American poets and on a creative woman's life from the 1950s onward. Amy Clampitt was an American original, a literary woman from a Quaker family in rural Iowa who came to New York after college and lived in Manhattan for almost forty years before she found success (or before it found her) at the age of 63 with the publication of The Kingfisher. Her letters from 1950 until her death in 1994 are a testimony to her fiercely independent spirit and her quest for various kinds of truth-religious, spiritual, political, and artistic. Written in clear, limpid prose, Clampitt's letters illuminate the habits of imagination she would later use to such effect in her poetry. She offers, with wit and intelligence, an intimate and personal portrait of life as an independent woman recently arrived in New York City. She recounts her struggle to find a place for herself in the world of literature as well as the excitement of living in Manhattan. In other letters she describes a religious conversion (and then a gradual religious disillusionment) and her work as a political activist. Clampitt also reveals her passionate interest in and fascination with the world around her. She conveys her delight in a variety of day-to-day experiences and sights, reporting on trips to Europe, the books she has read, and her walks in nature. After struggling as a novelist, Clampitt turned to poetry in her fifties and was eventually published in the New Yorker. In the last decade of her life she appeared like a meteor on the national literary scene, lionized and honored. In letters to Helen Vendler, Mary Jo Salter, and others, she discusses her poetry as well as her surprise at her newfound success and the long overdue satisfaction she obviously felt, along with gratitude, for her recognition.

A poet of place - and displacement - Clampitt captures Umbria in a snapshot of a two-year-old girl, a "ringlet-aureoled refugee from a fresco," and evokes the childhood terrors residing in the darkness of an Iowa apple cellar. Her poems, also, in the words of Mona Van Duyn, "light up human figures, the human drama": Matoaka, whose legend (we know her as Pocahuntus) obscures even what she was called; George Fox, the imprisoned Quaker radical envisioning heavenly rain descending.

Reflecting on her poetic predecessors and contemporaries, Amy Clampitt reveals the many connections in their craft

Forty poems deal with the people, plants and animals of New England, the English poet John Keats, and the landscape of New York City

The cove--Fog--Gradual clearing--The outer bar--Sea mouse--Beach glass-Marine surface, low overcast--(etc.).

Hope Mirrlees (1887-1978) has long been regarded as the lost modernist. Her extraordinary long poem Paris (1920), a journey through a day in post First World War Paris, was considered by Virginia Woolf obscure, indecent, and brilliant'. Read today, the poem retains its exhilarating daring. Mirrlees's experimentalism looks forward to The Waste Land; her writing is integral to the twentieth-century canon. And yet, after Paris, Mirrlees published no more poetry for almost half a century, and her later poems appear to have little in common with the avant garde spirit of Paris. In this first edition to gather the full span of Mirrlees's poetry, Sandeep Parmar explores the paradoxes of Mirrlees's development as a poet and the complexities of her life. Sandeep Parmar was the first scholar to gain access to the Mirrlees Archive at Newnham College, Cambridge, and her edition includes many previously unpublished poems discovered there in draft form. The text is supported by detailed notes, including a commentary on Paris by Julia Briggs, and a selection of Mirrlees's essays. The generous introduction provides the most accurate biographical account of Mirrlees's life available. Mirrlees's Collected Poems is an indispensible addition to a reading of modernism.