The Charge of the Light Brigade

The Charge of the Light Brigade

Alfred, Lord Tennyson

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!” he said.

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

“Forward the Light Brigade!”

Was there a man dismay’d?

Not tho’ the soldier knew

Some one had blunder’d.

Theirs not to make reply,

Theirs not to reason why,

Theirs but to do and die.

Into the valley of Death

Rode the six hundred.

Cannon to the right of them,

Cannon to the left of them,

Cannon in the front of them

Volley’d and thunder’d;

Storm’d at with shot and shell,

Boldly they rode and well,

Into the jaws of Death,

Into the mouth of hell

Rode the six hundred.

Flashed all their sabers bare,

Flashed as they turned in air

Sab’ring the gunners there,

Charging an army, while

All the world wondered.

Plunged in the battery smoke

Right through the line they broke;

Cossack and Russian

Reeled from the saber-stroke

Shattered and sundered.

Then they rode back, but not,

Not the six hundred.

Cannon to the right of them,

Cannon to the left of them,

Cannon behind them

Volleyed and thundered;

Stormed at with shot and shell,

While horse and hero fell,

They that had fought so well

Came through the jaws of Death,

Back from the mouth of hell,

All that was left of them,

Left of the six hundred.

When can their glory fade?

O the wild charge they made!

All the world wondered.

Honor the charge they made!

Honor the Light Brigade,

Noble six hundred!

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