William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

1. From The Rape Of Lucrece 4/17/2015
2. Some Say That Ever ‘Gainst That Season Comes (Hamlet, Act I, Scene I) 6/3/2015
3. Where The Bee Sucks 6/10/2015
4. The Procreation Sonnets (1 - 17) 3/29/2010
5. Sonnet Lix 5/21/2001
6. Sonnet Xxv 5/21/2001
7. Sonnet Xxiv 5/21/2001
8. Sonnet Xxxix 5/21/2001
9. Sonnet Xii 5/21/2001
10. Sonnet Xciii 5/21/2001
11. Sonnet Xiii 5/21/2001
12. Sonnet Lxv 5/21/2001
13. The Canakin Clink Pub Song (From 'Othello') 2/4/2015
14. Sonnet Iv: Unthrifty Loveliness, Why Dost Thou Spend 1/3/2003
15. Sonnet Lxi 5/21/2001
16. Sonnet Viii 5/21/2001
17. Sonnet Liii 5/21/2001
18. Sonnet Lxxvi 12/31/2002
19. Sonnet Xxxvii 5/21/2001
20. Sonnet Cxxxv 5/18/2001
21. Sonnet Lxxxvi 5/21/2001
22. Sonnet X 5/21/2001
23. Sonnet Xxxv 5/21/2001
24. Sonnet Cxxxiii 5/18/2001
25. Sonnet Lviii 5/21/2001
26. Sonnets Xiii 1/4/2003
27. Sonnet Xlviii 5/21/2001
28. Sonnet Xxviii 5/21/2001
29. Sonnet Cxxxii 5/18/2001
30. Sonnet Lv 5/21/2001
31. Sonnet Xvii 5/21/2001
32. Sonnet Lxiii 5/21/2001
33. Sonnet Lxii 5/21/2001
34. Sonnet Lxix 5/21/2001
35. Sonnet Cxxxiv 5/18/2001
36. Sonnet Xlv 5/21/2001
37. Sonnet Xxiii 5/21/2001
38. Sonnet Xcv 5/21/2001
39. Sonnet Xlvi 5/21/2001
40. Sonnet Lxxxviii 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 Cviii

What's in the brain that ink may character
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what new to register,
That may express my love or thy dear merit?
Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,
I must, each day say o'er the very same,
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love's fresh case

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