Will Shakespeare was born suckling the English language
Draining its dugs of phrases, verses, verbs
Words dripped in his ears the livelong day
He lapped up colonies of creatures, characters, categories
Odes, lyrics, legends, myths, fattened his flesh
Similes, metaphors dogged his infant steps
Prospective tragedies, the stuff of Tudor childhood
Born in a village recently plague depleted
Genius thickened his porridge
He would sneak off into the forest from the hayfield
Where blackbirds sang, to woo his wealthy wife
Honeysuckle drowned the meadow hedges
Hollyhocks head high flourished in this Eden
Here on the threshing floor of youth
He grew in symbolism, a peacock rising
From a peck of sparrows.
Chameleon dramatist, a man of many masks
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