William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

1. The Rival Poet Sonnets (78 - 86) 3/29/2010
2. Some Say That Ever ‘Gainst That Season Comes (Hamlet, Act I, Scene I) 6/3/2015
3. Where The Bee Sucks 6/10/2015
4. Sonnet Xxxix 5/21/2001
5. Sonnet Xxv 5/21/2001
6. Sonnet Xcviii 5/21/2001
7. Sonnet Xcix 5/21/2001
8. Sonnet Xii 5/21/2001
9. Sonnet Xi 5/21/2001
10. Sonnet Xciii 5/21/2001
11. Sonnet Xiii 5/21/2001
12. Sonnet Xiv 5/21/2001
13. Sonnet Xxii 5/21/2001
14. Sonnet Lxv 5/21/2001
15. Sonnet Xlv 5/21/2001
16. From The Rape Of Lucrece 4/17/2015
17. Sonnet Xcv 5/21/2001
18. Sonnet Viii 5/21/2001
19. Sonnet Liii 5/21/2001
20. Sonnet Lxxxvii 5/21/2001
21. Sonnet Xliv 5/21/2001
22. Sonnet Lxxvi 12/31/2002
23. Sonnet Xxxvii 5/21/2001
24. The Procreation Sonnets (1 - 17) 3/29/2010
25. The Canakin Clink Pub Song (From 'Othello') 2/4/2015
26. Sonnet Xci 5/21/2001
27. Sonnet X 5/21/2001
28. Sonnet Lxxviii 5/21/2001
29. Sonnet Xxxv 5/21/2001
30. Sonnet Cxxxiii 5/18/2001
31. Sonnet Cxxxii 5/18/2001
32. Sonnet Xxviii 5/21/2001
33. Sonnets Xvi 1/4/2003
34. Sonnet Xvii 5/21/2001
35. Sonnet Lxiii 5/21/2001
36. Sonnet Lxii 5/21/2001
37. Sonnet Lxix 5/21/2001
38. Sonnet Cxxxiv 5/18/2001
39. Sonnet Iv: Unthrifty Loveliness, Why Dost Thou Spend 1/3/2003
40. Sonnet Xlvi 5/21/2001
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 Cviii

What's in the brain that ink may character
Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit?
What's new to speak, what new to register,
That may express my love or thy dear merit?
Nothing, sweet boy; but yet, like prayers divine,
I must, each day say o'er the very same,
Counting no old thing old, thou mine, I thine,
Even as when first I hallow'd thy fair name.
So that eternal love in love's fresh case

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