William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

401. Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day? (Sonnet 18) 1/20/2003
402. A Fairy Song 1/3/2003
403. All The World's A Stage 1/20/2003

Comments about William Shakespeare

  • Moe Lester (1/29/2018 2:58:00 PM)

    The poems are good

    14 person liked.
    8 person did not like.
  • Praveen (1/27/2018 11:38:00 AM)

    Names and poems of the poet

  • Peter File (1/26/2018 8:21:00 AM)

    wagone im back boiis

  • Kenneth Sepillo (1/25/2018 4:42:00 PM)

    Wow! Very hard choice. They all sound like great books! !

  • Kenneth Sepillo (1/25/2018 4:22:00 PM)

    Good piece! I wish that I had also the talent in making poem like yours. Thank you for making the world of literature fruitful and meaningful.

  • RIONA (1/25/2018 4:30:00 AM)

    Is it copyright

  • Jennie (1/24/2018 9:08:00 AM)

    Are Shakespeare's poems currently copyrighted?

  • CORNDOG (1/23/2018 3:23:00 PM)

    You all know what happened.....

  • Phil the corn dog guy (1/23/2018 3:23:00 PM)

    Sure kid now to get the corn dog just step in this van

  • Jimmy the short kid (1/23/2018 3:22:00 PM)

    Can it be extra extra dry with mustard?

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 Lxxvii

Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste;
The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,
And of this book this learning mayst thou taste.
The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show
Of mouthed graves will give thee memory;
Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know
Time's thievish progress to eternity.
Look, what thy memory can not contain

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