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 fluster¹

　　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.