The Tail End of our Tale
There may be no language as quirky and irregular as English, nor any language whose words can have such varied meanings and whose letters can be pronounced in such a multitude of ways. That’s the premise behind this old poem I stumbled upon in an old anthology. It it titled, rather unimaginatively, “The English Language.” It’s a good and fun one to read aloud. A pretty deer is dear to me, A hare with downy hair: I love a hart …
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