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.

Just considering the title, the reader may expect the poem to deal with a particular type of art. However, the adjective 'one' refers to a unique entity  so maybe it suggests an idea of sameness/unity.

The layout shows that the composition consists of nineteen lines arranged into six stanzas. All of them are tercets, but the last one, which is a quatrain. The reader might be interested in finding out the reason of such a change. 

Taking the structure into account, the reader may suppose that the repetition of five three-line stanzas creates a unity which is present in the title ('One Art') whereas the final four-line stanza is a clear break. This loss of form also works to create a visual representation of loss. The almost regular rhyme scheme in the first five stanzas  (ABA ABA ABA  CDE EDE) changes in the final quatrain, too.

In order to become aware of the function of the final stanza in the economy of the poem, the reader has to understand its content. The art the title refers to is 'the art of losing' so the poem deals with the theme of loss. In the first stanza the speaker expresses her  point of view on one's experience with 'the art of losing'. Losing something is a situation one learns to face little by little, it is not overwhelming, 'no disaster'. In the second and in the third stanzas the speaker addresses the reader and seems to give some advice: she invites the reader/listener to lose and to practice losing every day because, again, it is nothing terrible, 'no disaster'.

In the fourth and fifth stanza the speaker reports her own experiences of loss: form dear objects (her mother's watch) to places. Again she reaffirms 'it wasn't a disaster'.

The last stanza contains a completely different perspective, so it goes without saying that the shift from the series  of tercets to  a quatrain, mentioned above, helps meaning: the speaking voice asserts that losing her beloved one is also 'not to hard to master' but in the final line she admits to the reader and to herself (-Write it!)  that it is devastating instead.

Structure alone does not underline the personal conviction of the poetess: sound devices add to the meaning of the poem. For example, the assonance of the sound “a” in the line “the art of losing isn’t hard to master” (line 1) connectes the words art, hard and master highlighting the fact that mastering one’s feelings may be hard, but it is an art that may be learned.

In addition, the alliterative repetion in the phrases 'losing farther, losing faster' quickens the rhythm and creates a crescendo that hints at the enourmous quantiy of losses we are going to face in our lives.  Losing things and places is a continuous process in our life, which is stressed by the poetess’ use of enjambments in line 2,3 (the intent / to be lost), 4, 5 (the fluster / of lost keys), 8/9 (you meant / to travel), 11,12 (my last, or / next-to-last), 16, 17 (a gesture / I love).

The repetition of the line 'The art of losing isn't hard to master' gives the poem an assertive, controlled and almost bold tone, while the alternation of the phrases “not hard to master” and “no disaster” throughout the poem adds to meaning in the juxtaposition of the rhyming words  “master”, which means “control”, and 'disaster'. As a matter of fact, “disaster” conveys a sense of destruction or desperation, which does not fit the reassuring word 'master'. Adding “too” in “not too hard to master” (line 18) in the final stanza and repeating the word “like”, interrupted by a parenthesis, is a way to show a break in the speaker's self-confidence and to introduce a surprising (or expected) conclusion. Losing a beloved one is a painful experience, actually a disaster.

Considering the use of tenses, the reader may notice that the first stanza is in the present simple because it contains the poetess' outlook on 'loss' as she states it as a general truth. The use of the imperative in the following stanzas reveals the presence of an addressee, the reader or listener, and turns the poetess’ words into a piece of advice ('Lose something every day', 'Practice losing farther, losing faster', 'And look!') and makes the register colloquial. The shift to the simple past in the fourth and fifth sanzas refers to the speaker's past experiences but the words 'I miss them' (l.15) take the reader to a present dimension again. Therefore the reader may suppose that the prevailing use of the present simple tense hints at the continuous, never ending sense of loss one feels in his life.

The decreasing self-confidence expressed by the poetess  is also highlighted by the change from the bold prediction 'None of these will bring disaster' (l.9) to the quite insecure  tone in 'it may look like (Write it!) like disaster' (l.19) in which the modal verb 'may' means probability, not certainty.

Despite all her efforts to reassure herself throughout the poem with regular rime and repetitions, in the and the poetess still has to admit that losing the person you love is a terrible experience.