William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

41. Sonnet Lxxxvii 5/21/2001
42. Sonnet Xl 5/21/2001
43. Sonnet Xxvii 5/21/2001
44. Sonnet Xvii 5/21/2001
45. Sonnet Cxx 5/18/2001
46. Sonnet 67: Ah, Wherefore With Infection Should He Live 1/13/2003
47. Sonnet Cxv 5/18/2001
48. Sonnet Lxxxiii 5/21/2001
49. Sonnet Xxiv 5/21/2001
50. Sonnet Cxxix 5/18/2001
51. Sonnet Xxxix 5/21/2001
52. Sonnet Xxvi 5/21/2001
53. Sonnet Cxxxviii 5/18/2001
54. Sonnet Lxxxv 5/21/2001
55. Sonnet Vi 5/21/2001
56. Sonnets Xiv 1/4/2003
57. Sonnet Xlii 5/21/2001
58. Sonnet Xxix: When, In Disgrace With Fortune And Men's Eyes 1/3/2003
59. Sonnet 38: How Can My Muse Want Subject To Invent 1/13/2003
60. Sonnet Xxxiv 5/21/2001
61. Sonnet Cxiv 5/18/2001
62. Sonnet Cl 5/18/2001
63. Sonnet Cxxxvi 5/18/2001
64. Sonnet Xxiii 5/21/2001
65. Sonnet Cxxxi 5/18/2001
66. Sonnet 7: Lo, In The Orient When The Gracious Light 1/13/2003
67. Sonnet Xcvii 5/21/2001
68. Sonnets Ix 1/4/2003
69. Sonnet Xxxi 5/21/2001
70. Sonnet Lvi 5/21/2001
71. Sonnet Cxxxii 5/18/2001
72. Sonnet 99: The Forward Violet Thus Did I Chide 1/13/2003
73. Sonnet Cvii 5/18/2001
74. Sonnet Lxxxix 5/21/2001
75. Sonnet Xxviii 5/21/2001
76. Sonnet Lxxxii 5/21/2001
77. Sonnet 82: I Grant Thou Wert Not Married To My Muse 1/13/2003
78. Sonnet Lxv 5/21/2001
79. Sonnet V: Those Hours, That With Gentle Work Did Frame 1/3/2003
80. Sonnet Xlvii 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 Ci

O truant Muse, what shall be thy amends
For thy neglect of truth in beauty dyed?
Both truth and beauty on my love depends;
So dost thou too, and therein dignified.
Make answer, Muse: wilt thou not haply say
'Truth needs no colour, with his colour fix'd;
Beauty no pencil, beauty's truth to lay;
But best is best, if never intermix'd?'
Because he needs no praise, wilt thou be dumb?

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