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 Someone 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 wondered.
Honor the charge they made,
Honor the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred.
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks,
Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge,
Till on the haunting flares we turned our backs
And towards our distant rest began to trudge.
Men marched asleep. Many had lost their boots
But limped on, blood-shod. All went lame; all blind;
Drunk with fatigue; deaf even to the hoots
Of disappointed shells that dropped behind.
GAS! Gas! Quick, boys!-- An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling
And floundering like a man in fire or lime.--
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.
In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.
If in some smothering dreams you too could pace
Behind the wagon that we flung him in,
And watch the white eyes writhing in his face,
His hanging face, like a devil's sick of sin;
If you could hear, at every jolt, the blood
Come gargling from the froth-corrupted lungs,
Obscene as cancer, bitter as the cud
Of vile, incurable sores on innocent tongues,--
My friend, you would not tell with such high zest
To children ardent for some desperate glory,
The old Lie: Dulce et decorum est
Pro patria mori.
I have had that song stuck in my head for the past few days.. it always makes me think..im not sure why..So, apparently Hurricane Felix is on its way, and Henrietta is on the other side! Something to look forward to eh?...........Nothing much is new here, Im going to the salon tomorrow.. I have a few photos to upload thats about it..I havnt been feeling well the past few days...
What else? I miss my mommy!!!!! I try calling but she never answers! Miss you all...x x
"The local rock group down the street,Is trying hard to learn their song
Seranade the weekend squire, who just came out to mow his lawnAnother Pleasant Valley Sunday,Charcoal burning everywhere
Rows of houses that are all the same,And no one seems to careSee Mrs. Gray she's proud today because her roses are in bloom
Mr. Green he's so serene, He's got a t.v. in every roomAnother Pleasant Valley Sunday..Here in status symbol land
Mothers complain about how hard life is,And the kids just don't understand
Creature comfort goals,They only numb my soul and make it hard for me to seeMy thoughts all seem to stray, to places far awayI need a change of scenery "
Happy Birthday Pamela!
