In Stratford’s gentle cradle, he first drew breath,
A life of words yet unspun, a tale untold,
With quill in hand, he painted worlds from death,
His timeless stories in our hearts enfold.

The stage his realm, where kings and jesters play,
Where love and tragedy entwine their dance,
Each sonnet whispers secrets of the day,
Through every line, we glimpse his soul’s expanse.

The Globe did echo with his crafted lore,
As voices rose to speak of dreams and fears,
His genius woven into every score,
A legacy that spans the endless years.

Though time has passed since his last curtain call,
His spirit lingers in each word and rhyme,
In every act, his magic we recall,
Shakespeare’s touch defies the bounds of time.