I always imagine William Shakespeare (1564-1616) sat at a desk and writing exquisite poetry at break neck speed with a quill pen. I don’t suppose that it can possibly have been like that, but my image has its origins in his poetry seeming to flow effortlessly in a torrent. As I watch his plays I’m conscious of great poetry rushing past me, thrown away almost carelessly. After each play I come home and read the text carefully.

Does any other poet I wonder influence a language as strongly as Shakespeare influences English? Although they usually don’t know it, millions of people speak and write his phrases every day, four hundred years after he died. Perhaps Dante had a similar influence on Italian: indeed, people say that modern Italian began with Dante. Did a Chinese, Persian, or Arab poet influence their languages as strongly as Shakespeare influenced English? I’d like to know. Tell me if you do.

There are many poems I could have chosen from Shakespeare, but this is the one that come first to mind. I think of the poem every time I hear of a death. I think of it now because I know of a much-loved dog who is about to die young. I said it over our rabbit’s grave. The poem describes the comfort, “the quiet consummation,” of death. There is no more to fear. You cannot be touched. And we will all reach there, as will much of what we hold precious: “The scepter, learning, physic, must/All follow this, and come to dust.” In another great poem Shakespeare writes how “the great globe itself…shall dissolve.” He’s scientifically right, but it was not the thinking of the time.

Fear no more the heat o’ the sun,

Nor the furious winter’s rages;

Thou thy worldly task hast done,

Home art gone, and ta’en thy wages:

Golden lads and girls all must,

As chimney-sweepers, come to dust.

Fear no more the frown o’ the great;

Thou art past the tyrant’s stroke;

Care no more to clothe and eat;

To thee the reed is as the oak:

The scepter, learning, physic, must

All follow this, and come to dust.

Fear no more the lightning flash,

Nor the all-dreaded thunder stone;

Fear not slander, censure rash;

Thou hast finished joy and moan:

All lovers young, all lovers must

Consign to thee, and come to dust.

No exorciser harm thee!

Nor no witchcraft charm thee!

Ghost unlaid forbear thee!

Nothing ill come near thee!

Quiet consummation have;

And renownèd be thy grave!