My favorite writer is William Shakespeare. Yesterday was the 391st anniversary of his death. And some would say the 443th anniversary of his birth. You see, his baptism was on April 26. So some believe, since the baptism usually took place two or three days after the birth that perhaps he was born and died on the same day. All of which is conjecture and doesn't amount to a hill of beans.
I love the man's work. My first son is named after him. And when I hear a line from one of his plays, such as the famous one above pulled from the balcony soliloquy, my soul responds. Poetry is visceral. It grabs the attention of the heart, the soul.
Now not all poets are created equal. Some are quite bad. But Shakespeare, he did it well.