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Dickinson & Bishop

The document contains two poems by Emily Dickinson and one by Elizabeth Bishop, exploring themes of the mind, beauty, truth, and loss. Dickinson's poems reflect on the vastness of the brain and the connection between beauty and truth in death, while Bishop's poem discusses the concept of losing and accepting loss as a part of life. Each poem employs unique rhyme and meter to convey deep emotional insights.

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Helena Teruel
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27 views2 pages

Dickinson & Bishop

The document contains two poems by Emily Dickinson and one by Elizabeth Bishop, exploring themes of the mind, beauty, truth, and loss. Dickinson's poems reflect on the vastness of the brain and the connection between beauty and truth in death, while Bishop's poem discusses the concept of losing and accepting loss as a part of life. Each poem employs unique rhyme and meter to convey deep emotional insights.

Uploaded by

Helena Teruel
Copyright
© © All Rights Reserved
We take content rights seriously. If you suspect this is your content, claim it here.
Available Formats
Download as PDF, TXT or read online on Scribd
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Rhyme, Meter, and Poetic Form

632

The Brain—is wider than the Sky—


For—put them side by side—
The one the other will contain
With ease—and You—beside—

The Brain is deeper than the sea—


For—hold them—Blue to Blue—
The one the other will absorb—
As Sponges—Buckets—do—

The Brain is just the weight of God—


For—Heft them—Pound for Pound—
And they will differ—if they do—
As Syllable from Sound—

—Emily Dickinson

449

I died for Beauty—but was scarce


Adjusted in the Tomb
When One who died for Truth, was lain
In an adjoining room—

He questioned softly “Why I failed?”


“For Beauty,” I replied—
“And I—for Truth—Themself are One—
We Brethren, are,” He said—

And so, as Kinsmen, met a Night—


We talked between the Rooms—
Until the Moss had reached our lips—
And covered up—our names—

—Emily Dickinson
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.

—Elizabeth Bishop

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