Under the azure skies so wide,
The English dawn begins to stride,
With whispers soft in morning’s hue,
A world of words in light anew.

Through fields of green and rivers clear,
The language dances, pure and sheer,
In every breeze and rustling leaf,
The tales of old, belief in brief.

The ancient oaks, with branches grand,
Hold stories of this cherished land,
In every whisper, every song,
The English heart beats strong and long.

So let us speak in tones so pure,
Of dreams and hopes that shall endure,
For in this dawn, this language bright,
We find our strength, our guiding light.