In Stratford’s gentle arms he lay,
A boy of dreams, in fields of play,
With quill in hand, his heart took flight,
To weave the tales of day and night.

The Globe, a stage where stories danced,
With actors’ voices, fate enhanced,
From Hamlet’s grief to Lear’s despair,
His words, a tapestry of air.

In sonnets’ lines, love’s whispers told,
Of beauty rare and passions bold,
Immortal verses, time defied,
In every heart, his echoes reside.

Though centuries have come and gone,
His legacy, a timeless song,
For in each soul his spirit wakes,
A testament to all he makes.