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)


  • 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 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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