In Stratford-upon-Avon, a tale begins,
A boy with dreams the world within.
Through quill and ink, his thoughts take flight,
To craft the worlds of day and night.

With stages set in London’s heart,
He weaves the words that never part.
From love and loss to dreams untold,
His stories, timeless and bold.

The Globe, a beacon of his craft,
Where laughter, tears, and dreams are cast.
In every line, his soul does weave,
A legacy we still believe.

Though centuries have passed us by,
His spirit lives, it doesn’t die.
In every play, his voice does sing,
The Bard, forever, our hearts will cling.