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Post by Moderator on Jul 2, 2006 17:00:39 GMT -6
The Charge of the Light Brigade Poems of Alfred Tennyson J. E. Tilton and Company (1870)
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 dismayed? Not tho' the soldier knew Someone had blundered: 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 thundered; Stormed 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 sabres bare, Flashed as they turned in air, Sabring 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 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 Volley'd 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 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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