William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

321. Sonnet 132: Thine Eyes I Love, And They, As Pitying Me 1/13/2003
322. Spring And Winter 1/4/2003
323. Sonnet 11: As Fast As Thou Shalt Wane, So Fast Thou Grow'st 1/13/2003
324. Sonnet 119: What Potions Have I Drunk Of Siren Tears 1/13/2003
325. Sonnet Cxvi: Let Me Not To The Marriage Of True Minds 1/3/2003
326. Sonnet 115: Those Lines That I Before Have Writ Do Lie 1/13/2003
327. Sonnet 75: So Are You To My Thoughts As Food To Life 1/13/2003
328. Sonnet 87: Farewell! Thou Art Too Dear For My Possessing 1/13/2003
329. Sonnet 111: O, For My Sake Do You With Fortune Chide 1/13/2003
330. Sonnet 71: No Longer Mourn For Me When I Am Dead 1/13/2003
331. Sonnet 112: Your Love And Pity Doth Th' Impression Fill 1/13/2003
332. Sonnet 28: How Can I Then Return In Happy Plight 1/13/2003
333. Sonnet 147: My Love Is As A Fever, Longing Still 1/13/2003
334. Sonnet 15: When I Consider Every Thing That Grows 1/13/2003
335. Sonnet 1: 3/30/2010
336. Sonnet 142: Love Is My Sin, And Thy Dear Virtue Hate 1/13/2003
337. Sonnet 120: That You Were Once Unkind Befriends Me Now 1/13/2003
338. Sonnet 151: Love Is Too Young To Know What Conscience Is 1/13/2003
339. That Time Of Year Thou Mayst In Me Behold (Sonnet 73) 1/20/2003
340. Sonnet 27: Weary With Toil, I Haste Me To My Bed 1/13/2003
341. Witches Chant (From Macbeth) 3/29/2010
342. Sonnet 23: As An Unperfect Actor On The Stage 1/13/2003
343. Sonnet 25: Let Those Who Are In Favour With Their Stars 1/13/2003
344. Sonnet 144: Two Loves I Have, Of Comfort And Despair 1/13/2003
345. Sonnet 110: Alas, 'Tis True, I Have Gone Here And There 1/13/2003
346. Sonnet 113: Since I Left You, Mine Eye Is In My Mind 1/13/2003
347. Sonnet 104: To Me, Fair Friend, You Never Can Be Old 3/30/2010
348. Sonnet 12: When I Do Count The Clock That Tells The Time 1/13/2003
349. Sonnet 17: Who Will Believe My Verse In Time To Come 1/13/2003
350. Sonnet 10: For Shame, Deny That Thou Bear'st Love To Any 1/13/2003
351. Sonnet 40: Take All My Loves, My Love, Yea, Take Them All 1/13/2003
352. Sonnet 20: A Woman's Face With Nature's Own Hand Painted 1/13/2003
353. Sonnet 106: When In The Chronicle Of Wasted Time 1/13/2003
354. Sonnet 101: O Truant Muse, What Shall Be Thy Amends 1/13/2003
355. Sonnet 145: Those Lips That Love's Own Hand Did Make 1/13/2003
356. Orpheus With His Lute Made Trees 1/1/2004
357. Sonnet 105: Let Not My Love Be Called Idolatry 1/13/2003
358. To Be, Or Not To Be (Hamlet, Act Iii, Scene I) 3/29/2010
359. Sonet Liv 5/18/2001
360. Sonnet 30: When To The Sessions Of Sweet Silent Thought 1/13/2003

Comments about William Shakespeare

  • Your fad (5/2/2018 8:58:00 AM)


    5 person liked.
    8 person did not like.
  • hihihi (4/30/2018 1:09:00 PM)


  • hihihi (4/30/2018 1:08:00 PM)


  • bobby (4/26/2018 1:26:00 PM)

    succ an egg
    to the south and back

  • Tabarak (4/26/2018 8:43:00 AM)

    This is best Heart teaching poem, πŸ’›πŸ’–πŸ’–πŸ’–πŸ’–πŸ’–πŸ’–

  • Il est tombΓ© (4/26/2018 4:57:00 AM)

    watch this https: //www.youtube.com/watch? v=nRoUQulerDI

  • anonymous (4/26/2018 4:56:00 AM)

    hello mon reys

  • sriajl lamichhane magar (4/25/2018 8:28:00 AM)

    very good and beautyful

  • Anurag Kumar Singh (4/25/2018 7:45:00 AM)

    Beautiful poem

  • Ankita chaudhary (4/25/2018 7:14:00 AM)

    All poems of william shakespeare are 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 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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