The art of
loving isn't hard to master;
so many things seemed filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.
Love 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.
Elizabeth Bishop,
Strong Measures
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