William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

41. Sonnet Viii 5/21/2001
42. Sonnet Lvi 5/21/2001
43. Sonnet Xlix 5/21/2001
44. Sonnet Liii 5/21/2001
45. Sonnet Xxiv 5/21/2001
46. Sonnet Lxxxvi 5/21/2001
47. Sonnet Xliv 5/21/2001
48. Sonnet Lxxix 12/31/2002
49. Sonnet Lxx 12/31/2002
50. Sonnet Lxxviii 5/21/2001
51. Sonnet Xlviii 5/21/2001
52. Sonnets Xx 1/4/2003
53. Sonnets Xxv: Let Those Who Are In Favour With Their Stars 1/1/2004
54. Sonnet Lxxii 12/31/2002
55. Sonnet Xl 5/21/2001
56. Sonnet Vi 5/21/2001
57. Sonnet Lxxi 12/31/2002
58. Sonnets Xvi 1/4/2003
59. Sonnet Lv 5/21/2001
60. Sonnet Lxxxiii 5/21/2001
61. Sonnet Xvii 5/21/2001
62. Sonnet Cxxxiv 5/18/2001
63. Sonnet Lxxiii 12/31/2002
64. Sonnet Xlvi 5/21/2001
65. Sonnet Xvi 5/21/2001
66. Sonnet Xlii 5/21/2001
67. Sonnet Xxiii 5/21/2001
68. Sonnet Lxxxix 5/21/2001
69. Sonnet Xxii 5/21/2001
70. Sonnet V: Those Hours, That With Gentle Work Did Frame 1/3/2003
71. Sonnets Iv 1/4/2003
72. Sonnet Xc 5/21/2001
73. Sonnet Iv: Unthrifty Loveliness, Why Dost Thou Spend 1/3/2003
74. William Shakespeare Epitaph 10/20/2015
75. Sonnets Xv 1/4/2003
76. Sonnet Xlv 5/21/2001
77. Now The Hungry Lion Roars 3/2/2015
78. Sonnet Lxxxvii 5/21/2001
79. Sonnet Xliii 5/21/2001
80. Sonnet Xcviii 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 Li

Thus can my love excuse the slow offence
Of my dull bearer when from thee I speed:
From where thou art why should I haste me thence?
Till I return, of posting is no need.
O, what excuse will my poor beast then find,
When swift extremity can seem but slow?
Then should I spur, though mounted on the wind;
In winged speed no motion shall I know:
Then can no horse with my desire keep pace;

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