The greatest loves and stories are soon lost
without a brilliant pen to write the plays
and trace romantic tears and evil thoughts
that carry through the years until today.
When first the Bard quilled page and manuscript
on comedies and legends of his time,
and then to tragedies where daggers dripped,
dramatic sonnets filled with metered rhyme.
But most of all he left us with a gift -
a treasure trove of witches kings and knaves;
ideas and dreams through which a mind can sift,
when stagnancy would otherwise pervade.
Now to the Bard I bow on bended knee
with what Victorians called bardolatry.
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