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 
ome one had blunder'd: 
Their's not to make reply, 
Their's not to reason why, 
Their's but to do and die: 
Into the valley of Death 
Rode the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon in 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. 

Flash'd all their sabres bare, 
Flash'd as they turn'd in air 
Sabring the gunners there, 
Charging an army, while 
All the world wonder'd: 
Plunged in the battery-smoke 
Right thro' the line they broke; 
Cossack and Russian 
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke 
Shatter'd and sunder'd. 
Then they rode back, but not 
Not the six hundred. 

Cannon to right of them, 
Cannon to left of them, 
Cannon behind them 
Volley'd and thunder'd; 
Storm'd at with shot and shell, 
While horse and hero fell, 
They that had fought so well 
Came thro' the jaws of Death, 
Back from the mouth of Hell, 
All that was left of them, 
Left of six hundred. 

When can their glory fade? 
O the wild charge they made! 
All the world wonder'd. 
Honour the charge they made! 
Honour the Light Brigade, 
Noble six hundred!

Charge of the Light Brigade
Alfred Lord Tennyson