Elizabeth Bishop was not an especially prolific poet — only 101 of her poems were published. But her work has endured. She was taught by Marianne Moore, and she in turn taught Dana Gioia when he was in graduate school.
Back then, Gioia says he was good at literary criticism, the kind prized in academia. Bishop challenged him to not use an approach that “reduced poems to ideas, and that the splendid particularity of an individual poem got lost in the process.” Instead she taught Gioia and her students not to “interpret” poetry but to “experience it.”
Bishop’s poem “One Art” is one to experience, not interpret. It’s an individual with splendid particularity. Its depth is tempered with humor. It kept me in good graces throughout the month of March, while I learned it By Heart.
One Art
The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.
I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.
(Listen to Hrishikesh Hirway read “One Art” at Ours Poetica. He shares why the poem has a special place in his heart and in his work.)
“One Art” is a villanelle . Two lines return and return in a pattern, trading the end words “master” and “disaster,” but each time the line itself is slightly changed.
The poem is about cultivating one art — the art of losing things. It begins with losing car keys and ends with losing the worst thing one can possibly lose: “you.”
This month spent with “One Art” was a particularly busy one at work. To say aloud that I should accept “the hour badly spent” felt reckless. To state to the afternoon sun that I would “practice losing farther, losing faster,” was to make a statement of faith. To remember my own “three loved houses,” now lost, was to feel a pang.
When I’d reach the fifth stanza, I’d always smile. Now the poet is losing in style:
I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.
All this is prelude for the punch in the very next line: “—Even losing you.”
I’ve lost people in different ways. The ones lost to death are the easiest to accept. The loss of those who have turned their backs is, for me, much harder to shoulder. But Bishop seems to know not only how it feels but what the prescription is for such loss:
(Write it!)
When I get to this line, I spit it, in a harsh whisper. It’s set apart from the rest of the poem, with parentheses, italics, and an exclamation mark, as if to say, (Don’t miss this, dear writer!). Write prose, write stories, write poems about your losses. Write your disaster. And it’s okay to do so with a wry smile.
https://soundcloud.com/megan-willome/one-art-by-elizabeth-bishop
Your Turn
Did you memorize “blessing the boats” this month? Join our By Heart community and share your audio or video using the hashtags #ByHeart and #MemoriesWithFriends and tagging us @tspoetry. We also welcome photos of your handwritten copy of the poem.
By Heart for April
For the next By Heart gathering, April 30, we’ll learn “Choices” by Tess Gallagher.
Choices
I go to the mountain side
of the house to cut saplings,
and clear a view to snow
on the mountain. But when I look up,
saw in hand, I see a nest clutched in
the uppermost branches.
I don’t cut that one.
I don’t cut the others either.
Suddenly, in every tree,
an unseen nest
where a mountain
would be.
– Tess Gallagher
Photo by Irina, Creative Commons, via Flickr. Post by Megan Willome.
Browse more By Heart
“Megan Willome’s The Joy of Poetry is not a long book, but it took me longer to read than I expected, because I kept stopping to savor poems and passages, to make note of books mentioned, and to compare Willome’s journey into poetry to my own. The book is many things. An unpretentious, funny, and poignant memoir. A defense of poetry, a response to literature that has touched her life, and a manual on how to write poetry. It’s also the story of a daughter who loses her mother to cancer. The author links these things into a narrative much like that of a novel. I loved this book. As soon as I finished, I began reading it again.”
—David Lee Garrison, author of Playing Bach in the D. C. Metro
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Sandra Heska King says
I love this poem. We saw Bishop’s house in Key West. The Key West Literary Society is working to preserve it.
https://www.kwls.org/bishop/
Megan Willome says
Oh, how cool!
I love this poem too. The title is so much better than what I would have been tempted to call it: The Art of Losing.
Sandra Heska King says
Also, Tess’ poem… The next-door neighbors took down the two palms I used to see outside my office window. I understand, cuz they need to put in a new fence to corral their adventurous dog. But the trees had berries and birds and their were soft feathers on the ground when the deed was done.
Megan Willome says
Sandy, I will be writing about exactly that next month! Although not palm trees–mountain laurels.
Those soft feathers make me sad.
Sandra Heska King says
They did me, too.
I’m thumbing through my copy of The Poets Guide to the Birds (edited by Kitchen and Kooser) and there on page 65 is Gallagher’s poem.
L.L. Barkat says
Sounds like a Regional Tour piece. Ahem. 😉
Sandra Heska King says
Ahem. Are we still doing those? Actually, I thought I’d already written something about her home. But maybe I just took some notes and pictures. There was no getting inside the last time we were there. I do have a lot of Key West stuff I could write about and wanted to revisit Hemingway’s home. I’m so bummed that Covid has stolen two Key West trips. 🙁
Laura Lynn Brown says
I love this poem, too. Perhaps the best villanelle ever. Megan, would you set it in a minor key?
Megan Willome says
I think I’d start major and have it turn minor, maybe with the realms. Also go from 3/4 to 4/4 for the last stanza.