In Stratford-upon-Avon, Warwickshire's embrace,A bard was born, who'd pen the human race.Shakespeare, the child, in this quaint town was raised,In tales of love and war, his voice was praised.At eighteen years, he took sweet Anne to wife,Their love bore fruit, in threefold echoed life.Susanna first, then twins of equal part,Hamnet and Judith, each a work of art.Between the years of '85 and '92,To London's stage, our bard bid home adieu.An actor, writer, part-owner of fame,In the Lord Chamberlain's Men, he made his name.Later known as the King's Men, they'd be,Their tales of love and war for all to see.At forty-nine, he sought his birthplace air,Retired to Stratford, left the stage's glare.Three years hence, he met his final night,His private life, a mystery, out of sight.Few records of his life remain today,Stirring speculation in a fervent way.His visage, faith, and love remain unclear,And if the works were his, some still query.Yet, in his words, we find a timeless truth,A mirror to our soul, from age to youth.
