William Shakespeare

(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616 / Warwickshire)

William Shakespeare Poems

41. Sonnet Xxxix 5/21/2001
42. Sonnets Iv 1/4/2003
43. Sonnet Lxxi 12/31/2002
44. Sonnet Xcix 5/21/2001
45. Sonnet Xc 5/21/2001
46. Sonnets To The Sundry Notes Of Music 3/30/2010
47. Sonnet Xxxvi 5/21/2001
48. Sonnets Iii 1/4/2003
49. Sonnet Lxxiii 12/31/2002
50. Sonnet Lxxxv 5/21/2001
51. Sonnets Xix: Devouring Time, Blunt Thou The Lion's Paws 1/1/2004
52. Sonnet Lxi 5/21/2001
53. Sonnet Liii 5/21/2001
54. Sonnet Xliv 5/21/2001
55. Sonnet Lxxix 12/31/2002
56. Sonnet Lxx 12/31/2002
57. Sonnet Lxxviii 5/21/2001
58. Sonnet Xlviii 5/21/2001
59. Sonnets Xx 1/4/2003
60. Sonnet Lv 5/21/2001
61. Sonnets Xvi 1/4/2003
62. Sonnet Lxxxiii 5/21/2001
63. Sonnet Xvii 5/21/2001
64. Sonnet Xcviii 5/21/2001
65. Sonnet Xiii 5/21/2001
66. Sonnet Cxxxiv 5/18/2001
67. Sonnet Xciii 5/21/2001
68. Sonnet Xvi 5/21/2001
69. Sonnet Xlvi 5/21/2001
70. Sonnets Liii: What Is Your Substance, Whereof Are You Made 1/1/2004
71. Sonnet Xlii 5/21/2001
72. Sonnet Xxiii 5/21/2001
73. Sonnet V: Those Hours, That With Gentle Work Did Frame 1/3/2003
74. Sonnet Xxii 5/21/2001
75. Sonnet Lxxxix 5/21/2001
76. Sonnet Iv: Unthrifty Loveliness, Why Dost Thou Spend 1/3/2003
77. William Shakespeare Epitaph 10/20/2015
78. Sonnets Xv 1/4/2003
79. Sonnet Lxxxvii 5/21/2001
80. Sonnet Xliii 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 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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