What does /lit/ think of the poem The Charge of the Light Brigade by Lord Tennyson?
I love it, people might talk down on it for being a simple rhyming tale with no deeper analysis really available (apart from the fact that it bluntly called out that one of the officers fucked it) but I find a beauty and truthfulness in its stark, plain descriptions and language. >Plunged in the battery smoke, right through the line they broke, Cossack and Russian reeling from the sabre strokeKino
>>24788213Chivalrous. Makes my eyes slightly moist every time I read it aloud, but fills me with anger too, for as usual, the officer corps bungled, and now the ordinary soldiers have to bear the brunt of someone else’s flawed decision making.
>>24788560Their's not to reason why,Their's not to make reply,Their's but to do and die.
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!
>>24788213post the poem
>>24789170Sure thing."The Charge of the Light Brigade" is an 1854 narrative poem by Alfred, Lord Tennyson about the Charge of the Light Brigade at the Battle of Balaclava during the Crimean War. He wrote the original version on 2 December 1854, and it was published on 9 December 1854 in The Examiner. The poem was subsequently revised and expanded for inclusion in Maud and Other Poems (1855).THE CHARGE OF THE LIGHT BRIGADE.Half a league, half a league,Half a league onward,All in the valley of DeathRode the six hundred."Charge," was the captain's cry;Their's not to reason why,Their's not to make reply,Their's but to do and die,Into the valley of DeathRode the six hundred.Cannon to right of them,Cannon to left of them,Cannon in front of themVolley'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 all at once in air,Sabring the gunners there,Charging an army, whileAll the world wonder'd:Plunged in the battery-smokeFiercely the line they broke;Strong was the sabre-stroke;Making an army reelShaken 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 themVolley'd and thunder'd;Storm'd at with shot and shell,They that had struck so wellRode thro' the jaws of Death,Half a league back again,Up from the mouth of Hell,All that was left of them,Left of six hundred.Honour the brave and bold!Long shall the tale be told,Yea, when our babes are old—How they rode onward.
