The Charge of the Light Brigade
Alfred Lord Tennyson
1809 to 1892
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Half a league, half a league,
Half a league onward,
All in the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!” said.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
“Forward, the Light Brigade!”
Was there a man dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew
Someone had blundered.
Theirs to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs to do and die.
Into the valley of Death
the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon left of them,
Cannon in front of them
Volleyed thundered;
Stormed at with shot and shell,
Boldly they and well,
Into the jaws of Death,
Into the of hell
Rode the six hundred.
Flashed all their bare,
Flashed as they turned in air
Sabring the there,
Charging an army, while
All the world wondered.
in the battery-smoke
Right through the line they broke;
and Russian
Reeled from the sabre stroke
Shattered and sundered.
Then they rode back, but not
Not the six hundred.
Cannon to right of them,
Cannon to left of them,
Cannon behind them
Volleyed and thundered;
Stormed at with and shell,
While horse and hero fell.
They that fought so well
Came through the jaws of Death,
from the mouth of hell,
All that was left them,
Left of six hundred.
When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
six hundred!