One Art by Elizabeth Bishop

The art of losing isn’t hard to master, but the nonchalat manner taken while describing one’s losts is.

Elizabeth shares how she has lost so many things, both material and sentimental, but cassualy dissmisses them as non-disastruous. She describes how good you can get at this art; how aguile you become in the matter, how insignificant the losses become — its only one of many others that will come.

In the poem, the author lists all the things her art has cost her; from everyday objects such as door keys and her mother’s hand watch, to untradable things such as time. She enlarges the value of her losts while mantaining a careless tone, she loses reals and rivers — even a continent, but claims that its not a disaster. But she finishes her verses with the one loss she cannot bear. The lost of the one she loves is the greater enlargement, greater than a continent, maybe her world?

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