William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

1. Antony and Cleopatra, Act II, Scene II [The barge she sat in, like a burnish'd throne] 3/23/2016
2. Sonnet Xxiv 5/21/2001
3. Sonnet Xii 5/21/2001
4. Sonnet Xcviii 5/21/2001
5. Sonnet Xiii 5/21/2001
6. Sonnet Xlv 5/21/2001
7. Sonnets To The Sundry Notes Of Music 3/30/2010
8. Sonnet Lxi 5/21/2001
9. The Rival Poet Sonnets (78 - 86) 3/29/2010
10. Sonnet Lxxxvii 5/21/2001
11. Sonnet Xliv 5/21/2001
12. Sonnet Lxxvi 12/31/2002
13. Sonnet X 5/21/2001
14. Sonnet Xci 5/21/2001
15. Speech: "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears" 10/22/2015
16. Sonnet Lxii 5/21/2001
17. Sonnet Xiv 5/21/2001
18. Sonnet Lxix 5/21/2001
19. Where The Bee Sucks (from The Tempest) 6/10/2015
20. Sonnet Viii 5/21/2001
21. Sonnet Xc 5/21/2001
22. Sonnet Xlix 5/21/2001
23. The Procreation Sonnets (1 - 17) 3/29/2010
24. Sonnets Xiv 1/4/2003
25. Sonnet Lvi 5/21/2001
26. Sonnet Xxxvii 5/21/2001
27. Sonnets Xv 1/4/2003
28. Sonnets Vi 1/4/2003
29. Sonnets X 1/4/2003
30. Sonnet Lxxx 5/21/2001
31. Sonnet Lviii 5/21/2001
32. Sonnets Xxv: Let Those Who Are In Favour With Their Stars 1/1/2004
33. William Shakespeare Epitaph 10/20/2015
34. Sonnet Lxv 5/21/2001
35. Sonnet Xxxiii 5/21/2001
36. Sonnet Xli 5/21/2001
37. Sonnet Lxxii 12/31/2002
38. Sonnets Iv 1/4/2003
39. The Canakin Clink Pub Song (From 'Othello') 2/4/2015
40. Sonnet Lxxxvi 5/21/2001
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;

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