Is Shakespeare still relevant?

“My bounty is as boundless as the sea, My love as deep; the more I give to thee, The more I have, for both are infinite.” ― William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet “When he shall die, Take him and cut him out in little stars, And he will make the face of heaven so fine That all the world will be in love with night And pay no worship to the garish sun.”

Well, sir; my mistress is the sweetest lady—Lord, Lord! when 'twas a little prating thing:—O, there... O woe! O woful, woful, woful day! Most lamentable day, most woful day,... Hie to your chamber: I'll find Romeo To comfort you: I wot well where he is....

E. E. Cummings, I carry your heart with me i carry your heart with me ( i carry it in my heart ) i am never without it ( anywhere i go you go, my dear ; and whatever is done by only me is your doing, my darling ) i fear no fate ( for you are my fate, my sweet ) i want no world ( for beautiful you are my world, my true ) and it ’ s you are whatever a moon has always meant and whatever a sun will always sing is you here is the deepest secret nobody knows ( here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud and the sky of the sky of a tree called life ; which grows higher than soul can hope or mind can hide ) and this is the wonder that ’ s keeping the stars apart i carry your heart ( i carry it in my heart ) om/watch?v=f8pPr_Oh Cew

m/watch?v=DDXWclpGhc g Funeral Blues by W H Auden Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come. Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves. He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong. The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood; For nothing now can ever come to any good.