William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

41. Sonnet Lviii 5/21/2001
42. Sonnet Xlviii 5/21/2001
43. Sonnets Xx 1/4/2003
44. Sonnet Lxix 5/21/2001
45. Sonnet Xiv 5/21/2001
46. Sonnet Xxxvii 5/21/2001
47. Sonnet Vi 5/21/2001
48. Sonnet Xcix 5/21/2001
49. Sonnets Xvi 1/4/2003
50. Sonnet Lv 5/21/2001
51. Sonnet Lxxxiii 5/21/2001
52. Sonnet Xvii 5/21/2001
53. Sonnet Xci 5/21/2001
54. Sonnets To The Sundry Notes Of Music 3/30/2010
55. The Canakin Clink Pub Song (From 'Othello') 2/4/2015
56. Sonnets Iii 1/4/2003
57. Sonnet Cxxxiv 5/18/2001
58. Sonnet Xciii 5/21/2001
59. Sonnet Viii 5/21/2001
60. Sonnet Xvi 5/21/2001
61. Sonnet Xlvi 5/21/2001
62. Sonnets Liii: What Is Your Substance, Whereof Are You Made 1/1/2004
63. Sonnet Xlii 5/21/2001
64. Sonnet Xxiii 5/21/2001
65. Sonnet Xxii 5/21/2001
66. Sonnet Lix 5/21/2001
67. Sonnet Xl 5/21/2001
68. Sonnet Xli 5/21/2001
69. Sonnet Xxxix 5/21/2001
70. Sonnet Xcviii 5/21/2001
71. Sonnet Xliii 5/21/2001
72. Sonnet Xcvi 5/21/2001
73. Sonnet Lxxiii 12/31/2002
74. Sonnet Xxxiii 5/21/2001
75. Sonnet Lxxxi 5/21/2001
76. Sonnet Cxxxix 5/18/2001
77. Sonnet 7: “lo In The Orient When The Gracious Light…” 3/30/2010
78. Sonnets Xiii 1/4/2003
79. Sonnet Cxxxiii 5/18/2001
80. Sonnet Xxxv 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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