William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

201. Sonnet 26: Lord Of My Love, To Whom In Vassalage… 3/30/2010
202. Sonnet Cx 5/18/2001
203. Sonnet 32: If Thou Survive My Well-Contented Day 1/13/2003
204. Sonnet 54: O, How Much More Doth Beauty Beauteous Seem 1/13/2003
205. Sonnet 6: Then Let Not Winter's Ragged Hand Deface 1/13/2003
206. Sonnet Cxviii 5/18/2001
207. Sonnet Cv 5/18/2001
208. Sonnet Cxvi 5/18/2001
209. Sonnet 81: Or I Shall Live Your Epitaph To Make 1/13/2003
210. Sonnet Ciii 5/18/2001
211. Sonnet Cxlii 5/18/2001
212. Sonnet Cxliii 5/18/2001
213. Sonnet Cl 5/18/2001
214. Sonnet 39: O, How Thy Worth With Manners May I Sing 1/13/2003
215. Sonnet 51: Thus Can My Love Excuse The Slow Offence 1/13/2003
216. Sonnet Cix 5/18/2001
217. Twelve O'Clock - Fairy Time 3/29/2010
218. Sonnet 63: Against My Love Shall Be, As I Am Now 1/13/2003
219. Sonnet 46: Mine Eye And Heart Are At A Mortal War 1/13/2003
220. Sonnet Cvii: Not Mine Own Fears, Nor The Prophetic Soul 1/3/2003
221. Sonnet 76: Why Is My Verse So Barren Of New Pride? 1/13/2003
222. Sonnet 44: If The Dull Substance Of My Flesh Were Thought 1/13/2003
223. Sonnet Cxv 5/18/2001
224. Sonnet Cxiv 5/18/2001
225. Sonnet 38: How Can My Muse Want Subject To Invent 1/13/2003
226. Sonnet 78: So Oft Have I Invoked Thee For My Muse 1/13/2003
227. Sonnet Cviii 5/18/2001
228. Sonnet Cxli 5/18/2001
229. Sonnet Cxlvi 12/31/2002
230. Sonnet Cxlvii 5/18/2001
231. Sonnet Cxix 5/18/2001
232. Sonnet Cxxi 5/18/2001
233. Sonnet 107: 3/30/2010
234. Sonnet 37: As A Decrepit Father Takes Delight 1/13/2003
235. Sonnet 135: Whoever Hath Her Wish, Thou Hast Thy Will 1/13/2003
236. Sonnet 9: Is It For Fear To Wet A Widow's Eye 1/13/2003
237. Sonnet 85: My Tongue-Tied Muse In Manners Holds Her Still 1/13/2003
238. Sonnet 134: So, Now I Have Confessed That He Is Thine 1/13/2003
239. Sonnet 84: Who Is It That Says Most, Which Can Say More 1/13/2003
240. Sonnet 98: From You Have I Been Absent In The Spring 1/13/2003

Comments about William Shakespeare

  • Prashant prajapati (6/4/2018 10:54:00 PM)

    Nice story

    2 person liked.
    4 person did not like.
  • Love Harry Styles (5/30/2018 11:59:00 AM)

    What are all these comments Hahaha

  • Love Harry Styles (5/30/2018 11:59:00 AM)

    What are all these comments Hahaha

  • Jonny''s dad (5/29/2018 1:26:00 PM)

    son get off of here or i'll have to come to your room

  • MUHHAMMED LEE (5/29/2018 1:19:00 PM)

    I LOVE every thing you have ever written i will hopefully because of your inspiring poems will become a writer and/or an author by MUHHAMMED LEE

  • Muhhammed (5/29/2018 1:15:00 PM)

    I absolutley love your poems they inspired me to want to become a writer or an author myself xxxx

  • jonny (5/29/2018 1:12:00 PM)

    i'm learning about william shakespeare in high school it is sooooo boring

  • AR GAMING (5/28/2018 6:59:00 AM)

    I liked ur poems they may be hard to understand at first as they were written in the 17th century and today is the 21st century XD

  • Stephen weller (5/25/2018 5:57:00 AM)

    good blah blah blha

  • What are those! ! ! ! ! ! ! ! (5/23/2018 1:21:00 PM)

    Never mind

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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