theirs but to do and die,

half a league, half a league,
half a league - onward,
all in the valley of death
rode six hundred:

'Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!' he said;
into the valley of death
rode six hundred.

'Forward the Light Brigade!'
was there a man dismay'd?
No tho' the soldiers knew

Some one had blunder'd:

Theirs not to make reply,
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.

Into the valley of death, rode six hundred.


by Alfred, Lord Tennyson. "The Charge of the Light Brigade"