William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

1. Sonnet Xxiv 5/21/2001
2. Sonnet Lxiii 5/21/2001
3. Sonnet X 5/21/2001
4. The Procreation Sonnets (1 - 17) 3/29/2010
5. Sonnet Lxi 5/21/2001
6. Sonnet Lvii 5/21/2001
7. Sonnet Xiv 5/21/2001
8. Sonnet Xxxiii 5/21/2001
9. Sonnet Lix 5/21/2001
10. Sonnet Xcv 5/21/2001
11. Sonnet Xxxix 5/21/2001
12. Sonnets Xiv 1/4/2003
13. Sonnet Xlix 5/21/2001
14. Sonnet Xcix 5/21/2001
15. Sonnets Vi 1/4/2003
16. Sonnet Xiii 5/21/2001
17. Sonnet Xlv 5/21/2001
18. Sonnets To The Sundry Notes Of Music 3/30/2010
19. Sonnet Lxxi 12/31/2002
20. Sonnet Viii 5/21/2001
21. Sonnet Liii 5/21/2001
22. Sonnet Xliv 5/21/2001
23. Sonnet Lxx 12/31/2002
24. Sonnet Lxxx 5/21/2001
25. Sonnet Xxxvii 5/21/2001
26. Sonnet Lxxviii 5/21/2001
27. Sonnet Lviii 5/21/2001
28. Sonnet Xlviii 5/21/2001
29. Sonnet Lxxii 12/31/2002
30. Sonnet Vi 5/21/2001
31. Sonnets Iv 1/4/2003
32. Sonnets Xvi 1/4/2003
33. Sonnet Lxxix 12/31/2002
34. Sonnet Lv 5/21/2001
35. Sonnet Lxxxiii 5/21/2001
36. Sonnet Xvii 5/21/2001
37. Sonnet Lxxxi 5/21/2001
38. Sonnets Iii 1/4/2003
39. Sonnets Xxv: Let Those Who Are In Favour With Their Stars 1/1/2004
40. Sonnet Lxxvi 12/31/2002

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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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