Valley Of Death
(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 their a man dismayed?
Not though the soldier knew
Some one had bludered:
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
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
When can their glory fade?
Oh the wild charge they made!
All the world wondered.
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
Terug naar Varia
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