by Alan Schwartz.

Alas, poor Shakespeare here lies done to death

By hands unknown his life away was borne

His stopped heart echoes his silent breath

His characters alone remain to mourn

Though the artist is slain, his works extend

Bright heroes whose lives his art attested

Now gather they to learn from Will's own pen

In whose name title to the plays vested

Lover, fighter, lady and thane, rare sprite

Each hope to receive the playwright's gift

Each seek to diminish the other's right

Or learn which other set Will's life adrift

Come, open-hearted and open-handed

Depart enriched, or a killer branded