William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

201. Sonnet 52: So Am I As The Rich Whose BlessÈD Key 1/13/2003
202. Sonnet Cxxii 5/18/2001
203. Sonnet 70: That Thou Art Blamed Shall Not Be Thy Defect 1/13/2003
204. Sonnet 26: Lord Of My Love, To Whom In Vassalage… 3/30/2010
205. Sonnet Cx 5/18/2001
206. Sonnet 32: If Thou Survive My Well-Contented Day 1/13/2003
207. Sonnet 38: How Can My Muse Want Subject To Invent 1/13/2003
208. Sonnet Cxli 5/18/2001
209. Sonnet 54: O, How Much More Doth Beauty Beauteous Seem 1/13/2003
210. Sonnet 6: Then Let Not Winter's Ragged Hand Deface 1/13/2003
211. Sonnet Cxviii 5/18/2001
212. Sonnet Cv 5/18/2001
213. Sonnet Cxvi 5/18/2001
214. Sonnet 81: Or I Shall Live Your Epitaph To Make 1/13/2003
215. Sonnet Ciii 5/18/2001
216. Sonnet Cxlii 5/18/2001
217. Sonnet 36: Let Me Confess That We Two Must Be Twain 1/13/2003
218. Sonnet Cxliii 5/18/2001
219. Sonnet 107: 3/30/2010
220. Sonnet 135: Whoever Hath Her Wish, Thou Hast Thy Will 1/13/2003
221. Sonnet Cl 5/18/2001
222. Sonnet 39: O, How Thy Worth With Manners May I Sing 1/13/2003
223. Sonnet 51: Thus Can My Love Excuse The Slow Offence 1/13/2003
224. Sonnet Cix 5/18/2001
225. Sonnet 46: Mine Eye And Heart Are At A Mortal War 1/13/2003
226. Sonnet 63: Against My Love Shall Be, As I Am Now 1/13/2003
227. Sonnet 34: Why Didst Thou Promise Such A Beauteous Day 1/13/2003
228. Sonnet Cvii: Not Mine Own Fears, Nor The Prophetic Soul 1/3/2003
229. Sonnet 76: Why Is My Verse So Barren Of New Pride? 1/13/2003
230. Sonnet Cxv 5/18/2001
231. Sonnet Cviii 5/18/2001
232. Sonnet Cxlvi 12/31/2002
233. Sonnet Cxix 5/18/2001
234. Sonnet 9: Is It For Fear To Wet A Widow's Eye 1/13/2003
235. Twelve O'Clock - Fairy Time 3/29/2010
236. Sonnet Cxxi 5/18/2001
237. Sonnet 5: Those Hours, That With Gentle Work Did Frame 1/13/2003
238. Sonnet 37: As A Decrepit Father Takes Delight 1/13/2003
239. Sonnet Cxlv 5/18/2001
240. Sonnet 85: My Tongue-Tied Muse In Manners Holds Her Still 1/13/2003
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 Lxxvii

Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste;
The vacant leaves thy mind's imprint will bear,
And of this book this learning mayst thou taste.
The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show
Of mouthed graves will give thee memory;
Thou by thy dial's shady stealth mayst know
Time's thievish progress to eternity.
Look, what thy memory can not contain

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