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 at the guns' he said; Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. 'Forward the Light Brigade!' Was there a man dismayed? Not, though the soldiers knew Someone had blundered: Their's not to make a 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 the right of them, Cannon to the left of them, Cannon in front of them, Volleyed 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, Cossacks and Russians Reeled from the sabre stroke Shattered and sundered, 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 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! Noble six hundred. -LORD TENNYSON