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

  • Ally Sama (2/3/2018 1:45:00 PM)

    I'm doing the play he wrote ''As you Like It''

    16 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
  • daddy (1/30/2018 1:38:00 PM)

    likefdhdhfhfgfcxterddtt

  • Moe Lester (1/29/2018 2:58:00 PM)

    The poems are good

  • 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.....

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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