In realms where letters softly blend,
The English language knows no end,
A symphony of words and rhyme,
Transcending boundaries, space, and time.

Through prose and verse, it weaves a tale,
Of love, of loss, of winds that sail,
A myriad voices, soft and loud,
Each word a star, each phrase a cloud.

With Shakespeare’s pen and Austen’s grace,
It paints emotions on a face,
From ancient scripts to modern flair,
A legacy beyond compare.

In whispers soft or thunderous might,
The English language takes its flight,
An endless journey, ever free,
A timeless dance of melody.