Ok I have a project due tomorrow, Monday on this poem by Shakespeare. I don't understand it please give me as much detail as you can. Here it is. HELP PLEASE!!!
Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day
To the last syllable of recorded time,
And all our yesterays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage
And then is heard no more; it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Thank you soooooooooooo much!!
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