In the garden of language, where words gently bloom,
English dances like a playful breeze,
Weaving stories in the silent room,
Its whispers bring hearts to ease.

From Shakespeare’s quill to modern prose,
The tales unfold, both old and new,
A tapestry of thoughts it lovingly sows,
Painting skies in vibrant hues.

Through storms of time, its voice remains,
A bridge uniting distant lands,
Carrying dreams on its eloquent trains,
Holding the world in gentle hands.

So let us celebrate this wondrous tongue,
A symphony of sound and grace,
In its embrace, all souls are young,
Forever finding their rightful place.