In Stratford’s gentle embrace he was born,Where whispers of the Avon softly flow,A youth with dreams that would not be forlorn,To London’s stage, his spirit yearned to go.With quill in hand, he penned the tales so grand,Of star-crossed lovers and kings’ mighty fall,In every word, his genius took a stand,And captured hearts within the Globe’s great hall.His sonnets sang of love’s enduring grace,Of time’s relentless march and fleeting fame,In every line, a timeless human face,Reflected in the mirror of his name.Though centuries have passed, his voice remains,A beacon in the world of endless night,In Shakespeare’s words, forever are the gains,Of wisdom, love, and truth’s eternal light.