Tribute To William Shakespeare

Now it's almost half a millennium gone when it fell The gigantic pen that colored England and the world. The enigma of all times that no man can tell, Nor had any sage of the long past foretold That such a towering ink the earth could produce. I know there's much bliss in that other world Where jubilation is said to be infinity-fold, Unlike the measly and spasmodic joys of this earth, That come with taxes and levies to trim any mirth Hopeless mortals may have gained from their tiresome labor, Or anything heaven might have given as a favor. Pray great ancestor of a noble loin: Permit your amateur heirs to love the art of rhyme And your dignified enterprises join; That your trade may survive the ravages of time, And that they may flourish those of your groin - And let your younglings from this art earn fame and dime. Sleep thee well till your children's fall Until it's achieved their pen's sublime goal. And when their eyes on their labors close They will join in your blissful repose.