"The Charge of the Light Brigade" - anthology.

"The Charge of the Light Brigade" - anthology. "Their's not to reason why/Their's but to do and die" are the famous lines from English poet Alfred Tennyson's "The Charge of the Light Brigade." Tennyson wrote the poem in 1854 to fulfill his obligation as poet laureate to commemorate state and national events. The famous charge was a doomed attempt on the part of a British cavalry brigade to prevent the Russians from removing captured guns in the Battle of Balaklava during the Crimean War (1853-1856). The senselessness of the order is a theme of the poem, although Tennyson's emphasis on the heroism of the troops has led to assertions that the poem glorifies obedience to military orders; it may be argued, however, that Tennyson was responding to the public mood, which was desperate to hear positive news of the Crimea. British spellings are retained. "The Charge of the Light Brigade" 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: 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!