Elizabeth Bishop

(8 February 1911 – 6 October 1979 / Worcester, Massachusetts)

Comments about Elizabeth Bishop

  • Rookie S B (5/6/2014 4:42:00 PM)

    Though she is not as famous, she is a great poet in my perspective.

    30 person liked.
    7 person did not like.
  • Rookie Kate Parker (2/9/2012 2:28:00 PM)

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  • Rookie Tim Martin (8/23/2009 9:55:00 AM)

    Argh! Webmasters! ...please get that 'a' out of the last line of 'One Art' (right before 'disaster') . Incorrect, and ruins the poem!

  • Rookie James Mcgrath (7/27/2009 5:48:00 PM)

    I personally love Bishop's work and find it hard to believe that others find it difficult to comprehend. She paints such a clear picture, creating the a link between herself and the reader. This is evident through her intense eye for detail. She is truly a wonderful poet of our time.

  • Rookie Lisa Bray (4/24/2009 4:59:00 PM)

    my moms grandparents was named bishop?

  • Rookie Brianna Sungenis (3/27/2007 9:47:00 PM)

    The poem Conversation is short but is very confusing and I don't think she really explains the meaning to the reader.

  • Rookie Linda Corrales (10/24/2005 4:58:00 PM)

    I do not like her poem the fish. It is getting on my nerves because we have to write a paper on it and I am struggling.

Best Poem of Elizabeth Bishop

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 ...

Read the full of One Art

Faustina, or Rock Roses

Tended by Faustina
yes in a crazy house
upon a crazy bed,
frail, of chipped enamel,
blooming above her head
into four vaguely roselike
flower-formations,

the white woman whispers to

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