Shakespeare lives on today in Prospero,
His crafty, artful, supernatural mage
Who conjures tempests on the wooden O
Of our Bard’s global microcosmic stage.
That we might think those players in their passion
(Reciting their poetic dialogue,
Strangely composed in antiquated fashion)
Would raise in us no more than a mental fog
Is contradicted by experience:
Like Prospero’s, the visions of the Bard
Beguile and captivate our every sense,
While softening each heart, however hard.
Devised by cosmological design,
His plays disclose their maker as divine.