O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear! your true love ’s coming,
  That can sing both high and low:
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
  Every wise man’s son doth know.

What is love? ’tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
  What ’s to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty!
  Youth ’s a stuff will not endure.

what a calamity i arise to befall
The step i climbed to miss
The ground that drunk of the water i swallowed.
Hissing and blazing, in a count of configuration
The bundles of antiquities flown by the naked ventures of tranquility
Here i bore the question with an empty head of lessonless mind
Look now that i smile nay i show non by the face
See to my lips and read yourself the smiles
Is it all yours
Or you beg for less the more i offer
Many as lame i be to walk, the blind and beauty of those i lead, the bright to line by my back the genuis stuck by my ways.
Aint no way through my heart is taken, hugged in a jar of Love to the hunter of my soul
I see not to venture go by the gone in the
I heal what is hurt in my hurt from the heart
******* the ugly beauty of an angered mind, sweeting gallons of hope to thee that seeks non but faith
Down my injuries i heal of you
To say bye i lie for i stay not to fear but of my choice to go far the worry to stay in one past the known one for joy
I cometh as i leap & leave as i leap, Leaping to stay and to leave the leaper but non for one
Now am there, to stay and to be this to me is further i go to stay her meekness am drawned her thickness am strive her boldness i lay her softness i am dragged
How do i and so can i not be  not to run a race past the behind of my favorite front

William Shakespeare - baptized in 26 April 1564, was an English poet, playwright and actor, widely considered as the greatest writer in the English language and the world's pre-eminent dramatist. He is often called England's national poet and the "Bard of Avon".

His extant works, including some collaboration, consist of about 38 plays, 154 sonnets, two long narrative poems, two epitaphs on a man named John Combe, one epitaph on Elias James, and several other poems. His plays have been translated into every major living language and are performed more often than those of any other playwright.

If you want to learn and know more about William Shakespeare’s bio, history and best works, please go visit http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/William_Shakespeare


One of the best poems of William Shakespeare:

Carpe Diem

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear! your true-love's coming
That can sing both high and low;
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journey's end in lovers' meeting--
Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty,--
Then come kiss me, Sweet and twenty,
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

Love’s soother, sweeter than all lyre’s thrall,
Hark the lullaby held it captive, lest all sirens fall…

O sweeting!
Sang the wind unto me,
Lacking stature, crimsoned complexion,
My wishful gaze upon one…

Shades of affection, a dye hight red,
Sparked living as I gasped, “O yonder boon !”
Harbouring lust, yet gallantly shining;
Enchanting I, my soul deeply ensnared,

Yonder eyes, colourful or maybe of a shade?
One upon worlds, fair gleaming masquerade,
Myriad in colours, the fountain of all shades,
All but one it gleams, ‘tis yonder shade yclept fade…

Like Mab granting night’s pseudo-heaven,
Thou art to me my fairy, verily Mab; O amabilis!
Mine velvet noon, whose night’s fair and fancy,
O fair muse! La pucelle d’Alfheim, I flatter thee!

Flattering personas, all of the fairest,
Though one was lost, of all which I know not,
Wilt thou? Indulge me in those, thy full façade?

My words are like sugar
sweeting life with my verse.
They tickle the heart through eyes.
They temp the sleeping to awake.

My words become a flowing stream,
asking one to spare some time.
Asking one to open mind.

My words, I gift to you I say
to sweeten your day with love
as you go your precious way.

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear, your true love's coming,
That can sing both high and low.
Trip no further pretty sweeting.
Journey's end in lovers' meeting
Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love, 'tis not hereafter
Present mirth hath present laughter:
What's to come is still unsure.
In delay there lies no plenty.
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty:
Youth's a stuff will not endure.

                      - William Shakespeare
                             "Twelfth Night"