William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

Comments about William Shakespeare

  • Rookie rakesh vishwakarma (8/31/2015 7:31:00 AM)

    I have short information about this great poet. However, he is graetest.

    16 person liked.
    11 person did not like.
  • Rookie Rafiqul Islam (8/9/2015 12:28:00 PM)

    Most favourite

  • Rookie sowmyasmeen nidabitha (7/15/2015 2:38:00 AM)

    Great poet

  • Rookie - 0 Points James Shakespeare (7/3/2015 8:20:00 AM)

    i like fish annd chips

  • Rookie - 211 Points Ashek Sarker (5/24/2015 7:52:00 AM)

    life is a tale,
    told by an idiot..
    full of sound and fury
    signifying Nothing

  • Veteran Poet - 1,902 Points p.a. noushad (5/20/2015 5:58:00 PM)

    dear, i cannot forget your verses from my heart.

  • Rookie Artist Nahid (5/17/2015 1:58:00 PM)

    युंहि जझ्बात मुकम्मल नहि होते कातिल... अशियां-ऐ-जनाझा पाना आसां नहि यहां.... Artist 🎨

  • Veteran Poet - 1,902 Points p.a. noushad (5/8/2015 12:35:00 PM)

    Dear, I like your flowery verses very much.

  • Rookie - 30 Points Leonard Ace ''akie'' Almalvez (5/4/2015 12:02:00 AM)

    My favorite author ever, and my inspiration

  • Rookie - 8 Points Safuwan Safuwan (5/3/2015 12:00:00 PM)

    nat niceeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee

Best Poem of William Shakespeare

All The World's A Stage

All the world's a stage,
And all the men and women merely players;
They have their exits and their entrances,
And one man in his time plays many parts,
His acts being seven ages. At first, the infant,
Mewling and puking in the nurse's arms.
Then the whining schoolboy, with his satchel
And shining morning face, creeping like snail
Unwillingly to school. And then the lover,
Sighing like furnace, with a woeful ballad
Made to his mistress' eyebrow. Then a soldier,
Full of strange oaths and bearded like the pard,
Jealous in honor, sudden and quick in ...

Read the full of All The World's A Stage

Sonnet Li

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:
From where thou art why should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting is no need.
O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
In winged speed no motion shall I know:
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;

[Hata Bildir]