I am ashamed, and do confess regret
To have forgotten, well into this night,
A solemn date no writer should forget
Commemorating one who brought great light
Equal’ to beggars, gentlemen, and kings,
Reminding us through soul-resounding verse
That we are all parts human in all things,
Succumbing to fate’s folly, and her curse.
Four hundred fifty spans did Phoebus make
’Cross silver-spangled heavens with his cart
Since first this humble poet did partake
of earthly riches, and make rich his art.
Elizabethan bard of tears and mirth:
Be merry on your rever’d day of birth!