William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

201. Sonnet Cxxii 5/18/2001
202. Sonnet 7: Lo, In The Orient When The Gracious Light 1/13/2003
203. Sonnet 26: Lord Of My Love, To Whom In Vassalage… 3/30/2010
204. Sonnet Cx 5/18/2001
205. Sonnet 32: If Thou Survive My Well-Contented Day 1/13/2003
206. Sonnet 38: How Can My Muse Want Subject To Invent 1/13/2003
207. Sonnet 54: O, How Much More Doth Beauty Beauteous Seem 1/13/2003
208. Sonnet 6: Then Let Not Winter's Ragged Hand Deface 1/13/2003
209. Sonnet Cxviii 5/18/2001
210. Sonnet Cv 5/18/2001
211. Sonnet Cxvi 5/18/2001
212. Sonnet 81: Or I Shall Live Your Epitaph To Make 1/13/2003
213. Sonnet Ciii 5/18/2001
214. Sonnet Cxlii 5/18/2001
215. Sonnet Cxliii 5/18/2001
216. Sonnet 135: Whoever Hath Her Wish, Thou Hast Thy Will 1/13/2003
217. Sonnet Cl 5/18/2001
218. Sonnet 39: O, How Thy Worth With Manners May I Sing 1/13/2003
219. Sonnet 51: Thus Can My Love Excuse The Slow Offence 1/13/2003
220. Sonnet Cix 5/18/2001
221. Sonnet 70: That Thou Art Blamed Shall Not Be Thy Defect 1/13/2003
222. Sonnet 46: Mine Eye And Heart Are At A Mortal War 1/13/2003
223. Sonnet 34: Why Didst Thou Promise Such A Beauteous Day 1/13/2003
224. Sonnet Cvii: Not Mine Own Fears, Nor The Prophetic Soul 1/3/2003
225. Sonnet 76: Why Is My Verse So Barren Of New Pride? 1/13/2003
226. Sonnet Cxv 5/18/2001
227. Sonnet Cviii 5/18/2001
228. Sonnet Cxli 5/18/2001
229. Sonnet Cxlvi 12/31/2002
230. Sonnet 14: “not From The Stars Do I My Judgement Pluck…” 3/30/2010
231. Sonnet Cxix 5/18/2001
232. Sonnet 9: Is It For Fear To Wet A Widow's Eye 1/13/2003
233. Sonnet Cxxi 5/18/2001
234. Sonnet 107: 3/30/2010
235. Sonnet 5: Those Hours, That With Gentle Work Did Frame 1/13/2003
236. Sonnet 37: As A Decrepit Father Takes Delight 1/13/2003
237. Sonnet Cxlv 5/18/2001
238. Sonnet 85: My Tongue-Tied Muse In Manners Holds Her Still 1/13/2003
239. Sonnet 134: So, Now I Have Confessed That He Is Thine 1/13/2003
240. Sonnet 84: Who Is It That Says Most, Which Can Say More 1/13/2003

Comments about William Shakespeare

  • Veeksha (6/27/2018 9:56:00 PM)

    All the poems are very meaning full . its fabulous

    0 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Johncris (6/25/2018 10:51:00 AM)

    She is verry good

  • James (6/24/2018 7:12:00 AM)

    Sonnet 18 rocks.so good and so cute

  • James (6/24/2018 7:10:00 AM)

    William Shakespeare’s poetry can get a bit repetitive but it was very good and it was not that hard

  • Jacket (6/24/2018 7:08:00 AM)

    It was not good as it was very boring and after the first few sentences it didn’t make any sense

  • Truthbomb McGee (6/17/2018 6:18:00 PM)

    How is Shakespeare No.2? ? ? He isn't even primarily a poet like what? ? He makes OK poems and great plays but seriously No.2? ! ? ! ? ! That is stupid.

  • Shivam jha (6/17/2018 12:03:00 AM)

    Very good but something is wrong

  • Immmmmmmm (6/14/2018 8:12:00 AM)

    Hijrjeuruurururiririeuu

  • shiela lae (6/12/2018 8:55:00 AM)

    its realy amazing

  • olivia (6/12/2018 8:44:00 AM)

    sonnet 18 is the best👍

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 Lxvi

Tired with all these, for restful death I cry,
As, to behold desert a beggar born,
And needy nothing trimm'd in jollity,
And purest faith unhappily forsworn,
And guilded honour shamefully misplaced,
And maiden virtue rudely strumpeted,
And right perfection wrongfully disgraced,
And strength by limping sway disabled,
And art made tongue-tied by authority,

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