In the following essay, Doyle surveys McGinley's poetry, asserting "she is abidingly aware of the divine in people and things."

In the house of poetry there are many mansions, most of them now vacant and dark, abandoned to the spider and the bat. The traveler passing that way shouts "Is there anybody there?" but there is no answer from the illustrious ghosts of Homer and Sophocles, Dante and Virgil, Shakespeare and Dryden and Pope, who had so many luminous things to say about the universe and man and so little to say about themselves. Evidently they felt that in discussing man they had revealed everything worth revealing about themselves. They had not heard about the Ego and the Id. Consequently, their remains are now revisited only by those literary paleontologists, candidates for higher degrees, who bring with them a whole set of new tools made available by...