In Stratford’s quiet lanes, a poet’s dreams did soar,
A life born of ink and quill, his spirit to explore,
From humble roots, his words took flight,
To weave the tales of love and plight.

On London’s bustling streets, his genius found its stage,
With every play, he wrote, a timeless, vivid page,
The Globe became his world, where stories came alive,
And through his art, his legacy would thrive.

Amid the cheers and tears, he painted human plight,
In tragedy and comedy, he cast his brilliant light,
His characters, so real, they breathed with every line,
Their joys and sorrows echo through the sands of time.

Now centuries have passed, yet still his words endure,
In every heart and mind, his presence ever pure,
The Bard of Avon lives, in every verse and play,
A testament to life, that time can’t take away.