Demo Edition

Below you will find reproductions of 16 drafts of Elizabeth Bishop’s poem “One Art.” Each reproduction also features a link to a photograph of Bishop’s original. As you click between drafts, you will see newly introduced or revised text appear highlighted in blue. You will also find underlined text, which you can mouse over to reveal either previous versions of that specific draft or reflection questions about Bishop’s revisions; text with assoicated questions also appears in blue. By exploring how the poem evolved over time, we hope that you will come to better understand how, and particularly why, the final poem ended up the way it did. We also encourage you to explore the pages linked above to gain a better understanding of the poem’s history and modern life.

Draft 13Draft 14

The art of losing isn't hard to master:
so many things seem really to be meant
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door-keys, an hour badly spent. 
The art of losing isn't hard to master.

Then practice losing further, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant 
to go. None will spell disaster. 

I lost my mother's watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last of three loved houses went  
  The art to lose them wasn't hard master  

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms of mine, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but I'd never say disaster. 

And losing you (funny voice; one gesture)       
doesn't mean I've lied. It's evident
the loss of love is possible to master, 
even if this looks like (Write it!) like disaster.  


The art of losing isn't hard to master:
so many things seem really to be meant
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 further, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant 
to travel. None of these will 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 In losing you (a joking voice, a gesture
  I love), These are not lies.  It's evident
 the art of losing's not too hard to master 
 though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster