Will Had A Way with His Quill
Even as a young, naive boy,
Will had a way with his quill.
His mother would shout
from the room across the hall
put that candle out,
once and for all!
But forge ahead the precocious writer sped,
he had so much he needed to get down with his feathery pen.
In his clever mind, scampered ladies and lads,
their stories needed to be told, both happy and sad.
He knew not why he needed to act thusly,
his desire to express exactly the words needed
made him seem quite fussy.
William could hear when his characters pleaded,
"Write beautifully our most hidden actions and thoughts,
your labor in the future will reveal how richly you succeeded."
So he abided, much to his mother's chagrin,
the call of the mighty muse,
plucking aside her reprimands like strings on a violin.
His fingers stained with ink, his eyes made bloodshot still
A wordsmith always would he be,
for Shakespeare obeyed the will of his quill.