Elizabeth Bishop

1911-1979 / Female / American
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AnaphoraEach day with so much ceremony / begins, with birds, with bells, / with whistles from a factory;
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ArgumentDays that cannot bring you near / or will not, / Distance trying to appear
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At The FishhousesAlthough it is a cold evening, / down by one of the fishhouses / an old man sits netting,
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CasabiancaLove's the boy stood on the burning deck / trying to recite "The boy stood on / the burning deck." Love's the son
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Filling StationOh, but it is ***** / --this little filling station, / oil-soaked, oil-permeated
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First Death In Nova ScotiaIn the cold, cold parlor / my mother laid out Arthur / beneath the chromographs:
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Five Flights UpStill dark. / The unknown bird sits on his usual branch. / The little dog next door barks in his sleep
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InsomniaThe moon in the bureau mirror / looks out a million miles / (and perhaps with pride, at herself,
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In The Waiting RoomIn Worcester, Massachusetts, / I went with Aunt Consuelo / to keep her dentist's appointment
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Invitation To Miss Marianne MooreFrom Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine morning, / please come flying. / In a cloud of fiery pale chemicals,
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