Alfred Lord Tennyson - 'Theirs but to do and die' Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die. Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. . . . In his memoir, Hallam Tennyson describes his father as a "soldier at heart," one proud to to have received a note from a returning veteran saying, "I escaped with my life and my Tennyson." The poem was so popular among those serving in the Crimea that a thousand copies were handed out at the front, and at Tennyson's funeral in Westminster Abbey survivors of the Balaclava battle lined the aisles. As poet laureate, Tennyson wrote a number of nationalistic poems, but he was anxious not to be perceived as a jingoist or war-lover. His epilogue to "The Charge of the Heavy Brigade," a poem written decades later, contains the lines, "And who loves War for War's own sake, / Is fool or crazed or worse." But the story behind Tennyson's later, "Heavy Brigade" poem is an interesting and more complicated one.

Many of the surviving Balaclava soldiers, long returned to England and long forgotten, were so destitute that a charity drive was undertaken on their behalf. When little money was raised, the charity organizers suggested that the veterans visit Tennyson, who might rally support. When they did so, he wrote his "Heavy Brigade" poem and appealed for more donations. Money came in, and then the politicians gave a lot of it to other causes -- prevention of cruelty to animals, for one. This so angered Rudyard Kipling that he penned "The Last of the Light Brigade" documenting the scandal. At this moment, Kipling's veterans visit the "Master-singer," Tennyson: The old Troop-Sergeant was spokesman, and "Beggin' your pardon," he said, "You wrote o' the Light Brigade, sir. Here's all that isn't dead. An' it's all come true what you wrote, sir, regardin' the mouth of hell; For we're all of us nigh to the workhouse, an' we thought we'd call an' tell.

Tennyson recorded an excerpt from "The Charge of the Light Brigade" near the end of his life; it can be found in various compilations and at several web sites. And, of course, an entirely different approach to the Light Brigade, England, and pretty much everything else awaits any reader of George MacDonald Fraser's Flashman at the Charge. — SK Pak and Anna: Theirs Not To Do And Die, Theirs But To Reason Why Theirs Not To Do And Die, Theirs But To Reason Why YouTube video posted by AssociatedPress showing riot police in Oakland, CA confronting Occupy Oakland (in support of Occupy Wall Street) demonstrators on the evening of October 25, 2011 In 1854, the poet Lord Alfred Tennyson wrote The Charge of the Light Brigade to praise a cavalry's unquestioning suicidal charge into "glory" during the Crimean War. Most readers remember the lines "Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die." When analyzing the power structures of life however, I personally prefer to flip the lines to read instead "Theirs not to do and die, Theirs but to reason why." If only everyone would learn to question more. . . . . . .

. . The Charge of the Light Brigade by Lord Alfred Tennyson Half a league, half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Charge for the guns!" he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Was there a man dismay'd? Not tho' the soldier 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 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, The Charge Of The Light Brigade by Alfred, Lord Tennyson Alfred, Lord Tennyson 1809-1892 This poem was written to memorialize a suicidal charge by light cavalry over open terrain by British forces in the Battle of Balaclava (Ukraine) in the Crimean War (1854-56). 247 men of the 637 in the charge were killed or wounded. Britain entered the war, which was fought by Russia against Turkey, Britain and France, because Russia sought to control the Dardanelles. Russian control of the Dardanelles threatened British sea routes. Many in the west best know of this war today because of Florence Nightingale, who trained and led nurses aiding the wounded during the war in a manner innovative for those times. The War was also noteworthy as an early example of the work of modern war correspondents.

The Charge Of The Light Brigade by Alfred, Lord Tennyson Memorializing Events in the Battle of Balaclava, October 25, 1854 Written 1854 Half a league half a league, Half a league onward, All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred: Charge for the guns' he said: Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Was there a man dismay'd ? Not tho' the soldier knew Some one had blunder'd: Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do & 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 & 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, Then they rode back, but not Not the six hundred.

Cannon to right of them, Cannon to left of them, Cannon behind them Storm'd at with shot and shell, While horse & 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 wonder'd. Honour the charge they made! Honour the Light Brigade, Noble six hundred! Note: This poem, including punctuation, is reproduced from a scan of the poem written out by Tennyson in his own hand later, in 1864. The scan was made available online by the University of Virginia. "Theirs but to Do and Die": Why a Lack of Communication Will Lead to a Software Development Disaster "Theirs but to Do and Die": Why a Lack of Communication Will Lead to a Software Development Disaster Tweet It’s an all-too-common story in modern software development. Someone had a good idea for a piece of software that would provide real value to a business. The programmers are working hard on the code. They are implementing what they believe will best suit the users.

And yet, while they know they’re going to ship some software in the end, they also know the project will fail because that software doesn't do what the business needs it to do. It reminds me of Tennyson’s “The Charge of the Light Brigade.” See if you can tell why in this stanza: "Forward, the Light Brigade!" Was there a man dismay'd? Not tho' the soldier knew Someone 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 the six hundred. The poem is an account of a Crimean War battle in 1854. The commander of the British forces gave an order for the British light brigade to attack what was supposed to be a retreating Russian artillery unit. But because of breakdowns in communication, the light brigade ended up mounting a frontal assault on an entrenched Russian artillery unit instead. It was a suicide mission—and the soldiers must have known it. But they charged anyway. [1] As with many software projects, the charge did not fail due to any incompetence on the part of people on the front lines.

In fact, it was the soldier's valor that inspired Tennyson's poem (and an Iron Maiden song). Nor did the charge fail because the command was bad. The charge failed because the cavalry attacked the wrong position. Software projects staffed by talented developers have failed for a similar reason. The software solved the wrong problem. In addition to developers who produce good code, a project must have good communication and proper visibility if it is going to succeed. Success in Software Development Sometimes programmers think that a project will be successful if they fully implement what was prototyped or specified in the requirements. But the truest measure of success in a software project is the value that it ultimately provides to the users. As Fred Brooks writes in The Computer Scientist as a Toolsmith: "If we perceive our role aright, we then see more clearly the proper criterion for success: a toolmaker succeeds as, and only as, the users of this tool succeed with his aid. However shining the blade, however jeweled the hilt, however perfect the heft, a sword is tested only by cutting. That swordsmith is successful whose clients die of old age." [2] Communication The main cause of failure in the Charge of the Light Brigade was a breakdown in communication.

A great distance separated the commander who ordered the charge from the cavalry that carried it out. He gave a vaguely worded message to one of his assistants, who relayed the verbal order to a messenger who took it to the divisional commander of the cavalry. The divisional commander then gave instructions for the charge to the leader of the light brigade. Lack of Detail The commander gave a command that may have been obvious to him from his vantage point. But it was not detailed enough for the other officers to execute properly. The lack of clarity isn't the only reason for the failure, but if the order had been more explicit, the failure would have been avoided. Software projects can also falter when there is a lack of detail. A user story or requirement that is obvious to a stakeholder might be misleading to a developer. This is especially true in cases where there are industry-specific meanings to certain terms. In the same way that software developers have a specific understanding of the word “release,” other businesses have specific terminology as well. The team must take steps to ensure the requirements are clear to all members of the team, not just the person who wrote it down.

The lack of detail was the first part of the problem, but the failure could have been avoided if there had been good two-way communication. One Way Communication Maybe the biggest problem was that all of the communication was in one direction. There was no chance for clarification. That was no opportunity to question the order. There was no chance to refine the objective. There was only a vague directive. Many software projects have the same flaw. Written documents are a classic form of one-way communication. Some projects operate by having a requirements engineer talk to a stakeholder and then generate a huge Word document. The developers receive the document and implement it as they interpret it. In theory, this could work. In practice, it rarely does. I'm not saying that written documentation is bad. I'm saying that collaboration is also necessary. Allowing developers to meet with the end users can be very advantageous. I have benefited, for instance, from touring the manufacturing facility of a client. It helped me understand how the software would work in its natural setting. On healthy projects, each requirement is the beginning of a conversation. It’s important that the team establish what communication tools they will use on the project. They must do this early in the project.

I said "tools" because it is important that teams have multiple communication channels and that they use each when appropriate. Using email to converse works well when the information is long and it doesn't require immediate attention. Using email to chat with a group is painful. This isn’t a problem with email per se any more than it is the hammer’s fault that it can't turn a screw. Your team should evaluate all your communications options upfront, from chat to email, to voice, video, and documentation. The view from the ground In the Charge of the Light Brigade, the soldiers in the cavalry must have known that the charge was a suicide mission. All too often developers know the flaws in the software, but they don't say anything about it. Maybe it is hard to use. Maybe there are gaps in the functionality. Maybe it depends on another system that is unreliable. As Tennyson said of the soldiers: "Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to reason why, Theirs but to do and die:" As developers we must be willing and able to get clarification when necessary and to ask the "why" questions. It is our responsibility to make sure the client gets software that solves their problem. If we don't, the project will die.

The Agile Manifesto One of the reasons why the Agile Manifesto was such a watershed moment in our industry is that it put renewed emphasis on communication. Two of the four points are directly related to communication. [3] The Scrum process specifically puts emphasis on team communication, not only among the developers, but with the business users as well. Visibility In addition to the communication breakdown, the other major reason for the disaster in the Charge of the Light Brigade was a lack of visibility. The overall commander of the British forces was situated on a hilltop where he could see the entire battle. He could see the retreating Russian artillery battery that was a perfect target for the light brigade. The divisional commander was down in the valley and could only see the entrenched Russian artillery position. The overall commander was too far from the cavalry to see that they were preparing to charge the wrong position until it was too late. One of the challenges in writing software is that the client cannot look at the code and judge the progress. They must be able to see the software running in order to give feedback. This is why regular demos are so valuable. They give the client visibility into what the developers are building.

If the feature they just developed does not meet the client’s need, it gives them the chance to redirect the developers. Seeing the client use the demo software gives the developers better visibility into the intended use. Demos also give the client a feel for how much of the project is complete. Some other valuable tools for making progress visible are sprint burn down charts and release burn down charts. A good project management tool will be able to automatically generate these charts. The burn down chart gives the entire team visibility into progress made in the current iteration. The release burn down shows how much work remains before the next major release. Summary Software projects are successful when the end users are getting value out of the software. To achieve this, there must be good communication between all parts of the team, including the representatives for the end users. There must also be good visibility for all of the team members about what the team is building and when they will finish. All long as procedures and mechanisms are in place to cover all these areas, the project won’t be another Charge of the Light Brigade.

References Alfred, Lord Tennyson - Wikiquote Alfred, Lord Tennyson I hold it true, whate'er befall; I feel it, when I sorrow most; 'Tis better to have loved and lost Than never to have loved at all. Alfred, Lord Tennyson (1st Baron Tennyson) ( August 6 1809 – October 6 1892 ) was the Poet Laureate of the United Kingdom, after William Wordsworth , and is one of the most popular English poets. See also: The breezes pause and die, Letting the rose-leaves fall: But the solemn oak-tree sigheth, Thick-leaved, ambrosial, With blackest moss the flower plots Were thickly crusted, one and all; The rusted nails fell from the knots That held the pear to the gable wall. The broken sheds looked sad and strange: Unlifted was the clinking latch; Weeded and worn the ancient thatch Upon the lonely moated grange.

She only said, "My life is dreary, He cometh not," she said; She said, "I am aweary, aweary, I would that I were dead!' He often lying broad awake, and yet Remaining from the body, and apart In intellect and power and will, hath heard Time flowing in the middle of the night, And all things creeping to a day of doom. Yet fill my glass: give me one kiss: My own sweet Alice, we must die. There's somewhat in this world amiss Shall be unriddled by and by. There's somewhat flows to us in life, But more is taken quite away. Pray, Alice, pray, my darling wife, That we may die the self-same day. Have I not found a happy earth? I least should breathe a thought of pain. Would God renew me from my birth I'd almost live my life again. So sweet it seems with thee to walk, And once again to woo thee mine — It seems in after-dinner talk Across the walnuts and the wine — "The Miller's Daughter" (1832). Dear mother Ida, harken ere I die.

For now the noonday quiet holds the hill: The grasshopper is silent in the grass: The lizard, with his shadow on the stone, Rests like a shadow, and the winds are dead. The purple flower droops: the golden bee Is lily-cradled: I alone awake. My eyes are full of tears, my heart of love, My heart is breaking, and my eyes are dim, And I am all aweary of my life. " Oenone ", st. 3 (1832). These three alone lead life to sovereign power. Yet not for power (power of herself Would come uncall'd for) but to live by law, Acting the law we live by without fear; And, because right is right, to follow right Were wisdom in the scorn of consequence. "Oenone", st. 14. I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, Wherein at ease for aye to dwell.

I said, "O Soul, make merry and carouse, Dear soul, for all is well." You must wake and call me early, call me early, mother dear; Tomorrow 'ill be the happiest time of all the glad New-year; Of all the glad New-year, mother, the maddest merriest day, For I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May. " The May Queen ", st. 1 (1832). Dan Chaucer, the first warbler, whose sweet breath Preluded those melodious bursts that fill The spacious times of great Elizabeth With sounds that echo still. At length I saw a lady within call, Stiller than chisell'd marble, standing there; A daughter of the gods, divinely tall, And most divinely fair. "A Dream of Fair Women", st. 22. Half light, half shade, " The Gardener's Daughter ", l. 139-140 (1842). Of love that never found his earthly close, What sequel? Streaming eyes and breaking hearts? Or all the same as if he had not been? Not so.

Shall Error in the round of time Still father Truth? O shall the braggart shout For some blind glimpse of freedom work itself Thro' madness, hated by the wise, to law System and empire? Sin itself be found The cloudy porch oft opening on the Sun? And only he, this wonder, dead, become Mere highway dust? or year by year alone Sit brooding in the ruins of a life, Nightmare of youth, the spectre of himself! If this were thus, if this, indeed, were all, Better the narrow brain, the stony heart, The staring eye glazed o'er with sapless days, The long mechanic pacings to and fro, The set gray life, and apathetic end. But am I not the nobler thro' thy love? O three times less unworthy! likewise thou Art more thro' Love, and greater than thy years. " Love and Duty ", l. 1- 21 (1842).

The slow sweet hours that bring us all things good, The slow sad hours that bring us all things ill, And all good things from evil, brought the night In which we sat together and alone, And to the want, that hollow'd all the heart, Gave utterance by the yearning of an eye, That burn'd upon its object thro' such tears As flow but once a life. The trance gave way To those caresses, when a hundred times In that last kiss, which never was the last, Farewell, like endless welcome, lived and died. "Love and Duty" l. 57 - 67 (1842). My good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure. Meet is it changes should control Our being, lest we rust in ease. We all are changed by still degrees, All but the basis of the soul. But we grow old. Ah! when shall all men's good Be each man's rule, and universal Peace Lie like a shaft of light across the land, And like a lane of beams athwart the sea, Thro' all the circle of the golden year?

" The Golden Year ", st. 3 (1842). My good blade carves the casques of men, My tough lance thrusteth sure, My strength is as the strength of ten, Because my heart is pure. " Sir Galahad ", st. 1 (1842). I grow in worth, and wit, and sense, Unboding critic-pen, Or that eternal want of pence, Which vexes public men, Who hold their hands to all, and cry For that which all deny them — Who sweep the crossings, wet or dry, And all the world go by them. As shines the moon in clouded skies, She in her poor attire was seen; One praised her ankles, one her eyes, One her dark hair and lovesome mien. So sweet a face, such angel grace, In all that land had never been. Cophetua sware a royal oath: "This beggar maid shall be my queen!" " The Beggar Maid ", st. 2 (1842). All the windy ways of men Are but dust that rises up, And is lightly laid again. Then some one spake: "Behold!

it was a crime Of sense avenged by sense that wore with time." Another said: "The crime of sense became The crime of malice, and is equal blame." And one: "He had not wholly quench'd his power; A little grain of conscience made him sour." At last I heard a voice upon the slope Cry to the summit, "Is there any hope?" To which an answer peal'd from that high land, But in a tongue no man could understand; And on the glimmering limit far withdrawn God made Himself an awful rose of dawn. "The Vision of Sin", sec. 5 (1842). Break, break, break, On thy cold gray stones, O Sea! And I would that my tongue could utter The thoughts that arise in me. " Break, Break, Break " (1842), st. 1. Break, break, break At the foot of thy crags, O Sea! But the tender grace of a day that is dead Will never come back to me. "Break, Break, Break" (1842), st. 4. But oh for the touch of a vanished hand, And the sound of a voice that is still!

"Break, Break, Break" (1842). Come not, when I am dead, To drop thy foolish tears upon my grave, To trample round my fallen head, And vex the unhappy dust thou wouldst not save. There let the wind sweep and the plover cry; But thou, go by. Child, if it were thine error or thy crime I care no longer, being all unblest: Wed whom thou wilt, but I am sick of Time, And I desire to rest. Pass on, weak heart, and leave me where I lie: Go by, go by. "Come not, when I am dead" (1850). He clasps the crag with crooked hands; Close to the sun in lonely lands, Ring'd with the azure world, he stands. The wrinkled sea beneath him crawls; He watches from his mountain walls, And like a thunderbolt he falls. We love not this French God, the child of hell, Wild War, who breaks the converse of the wise; But though we love kind Peace so well, We dare not even by silence sanction lies.

It might be safe our censures to withdraw, And yet, my Lords, not well; there is a higher law. I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally, And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley. " The Brook ", st. 1 (1855). And draw them all along, and flow To join the brimming river, For men may come and men may go, But I go on forever. "The Brook", st. 5. The woods decay, the woods decay and fall, The vapours weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath, And after many a summer dies the swan. Me only cruel immortality Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms, Here at the quiet limit of the world, A white-hair'd shadow roaming like a dream The ever-silent spaces of the East, Far-folded mists, and gleaming halls of morn. " Tithonus ", st. 1 (1860). His deeds yet live, the worst is yet to come. Yet let your sleep for this one night be sound: I do forgive him!

" Sea Dreams " (1864) l. 301-303. And the parson made it his text that week, and he said likewise, That a lie which is half a truth is ever the blackest of lies, That a lie which is all a lie may be met and fought with outright, But a lie which is part a truth is a harder matter to fight. " The Grandmother ", st. 8 (1864). Speak to Him thou for He hears, and Spirit with Spirit can meet — Closer is He than breathing, and nearer than hands and feet. " The Higher Pantheism ", st. 6 (1869). Flower in the crannied wall, I pluck you out of the crannies, I hold you here, root and all, in my hand, Little flower — but if I could understand What you are, root and all, and all in all, I should know what God and man is. Love lieth deep; Love dwells not in lip-depths. The Lover's Tale (1879), line 466. Where love could walk with banish'd Hope no more.

The Lover's Tale (1879), line 813. Thou that singest wheat and woodland, tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and herd; All the charm of all the Muses often flowering in a lonely word. Love's arms were wreathed about the neck of Hope, And Hope kiss'd Love, and Love drew in her breath In that close kiss and drank her whisper'd tales. They said that Love would die when Hope was gone. And Love mourn'd long, and sorrow'd after Hope; At last she sought out Memory, and they trod The same old paths where Love had walked with Hope, And Memory fed the soul of Love with tears. The Lover's Tale (1879), line 815. Thou that singest wheat and woodland, tilth and vineyard, hive and horse and herd; All the charm of all the Muses often flowering in a lonely word. " To Virgil ", st. 3 (1882).

For Knowledge is the swallow on the lake That sees and stirs the surface-shadow there But never yet hath dipt into the abysm From The Ancient Sage (1885), lines 37-39 For nothing worthy proving can be proven, Nor yet disproven: wherefore thou be wise, Cleave ever to the sunnier side of doubt, And cling to Faith beyond the forms of Faith! From The Ancient Sage (1885), lines 66-69 She sees the Best that glimmers thro’ the Worst, She feels the Sun is hid but for a night, She spies the summer thro’ the winter bud, She tastes the fruit before the blossom falls, She hears the lark within the songless egg, She finds the fountain where they wail’d ‘Mirage’! From The Ancient Sage (1885), lines 72-77 The shell must break before the bird can fly. From The Ancient Sage (1885), line 154 First pledge our Queen this solemn night, Then drink to England, every guest; That man's the best Cosmopolite Who loves his native country best. " Hands All Round ", l.

1-4 (1885). O young Mariner, ‘Follow The Gleam.’ "Merlin and the Gleam", st. 3 (1889). Well, Gosse , would you like to know what I think of Churton Collins ? I think he's a Louse on the Locks of Literature. Evan Charteris, Life and Letters of Sir Edmund Gosse (1931), p. 197. This laurel greener from the brows Of him that utter'd nothing base. To the Queen, st. 3 (1851). And statesmen at her council met Who knew the seasons, when to take Occasion by the hand, and make The bounds of freedom wider yet. To the Queen, st. 8 (1851). Broad-based upon her people’s will, And compass'd by the inviolate sea. To the Queen, st. 9 (1851). For it was in the golden prime Of good Haroun Alraschid. Recollections of the Arabian Nights, stanza 1, from Poems, Chiefly Lyrical (1830).

A man had given all other bliss, And all his worldly worth for this, To waste his whole heart in one kiss Upon her perfect lips. Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere. As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her played, Blowing the ringlet from the braid. Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere. God gives us love. Something to love He lends us; but when love is grown To ripeness, that on which it throve Falls off, and love is left alone. To J. S., stanza 4, from Poems (1832). Sleep sweetly, tender heart, in peace! Sleep, holy spirit, blessed soul, While the stars burn, the moons increase, And the great ages onward roll. To J. S., stanza 18, from Poems (1832). Sleep till the end, true soul and sweet! Nothing comes to thee new or strange. Sleep full of rest from head to feet; Lie still, dry dust, secure of change. To J. S., stanza 19, from Poems (1832). More black than ash-buds in the front of March.

The Gardener's Daughter, line 28, from Poems (1842). We are ancients of the earth, And in the morning of the times. The Daydream: L'Envoi, lines 231-32, from The Complete Works of Alfred Tennyson (1879). For now the poet can not die, Nor leave his music as of old, But round him ere he scarce be cold Begins the scandal and the cry. To ———, after reading a Life and Letters, stanza 4, from Poems (1850). Mastering the lawless science of our law,— That codeless myriad of precedent, That wilderness of single instances. Aylmer's Field (1864); reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). Insipid as the queen upon a card. Aylmer's Field (1864); reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). O Love!

what hours were thine and mine, In lands of palm and southern pine; In lands of palm, of orange-blossom, Of olive, aloe, and maize and vine! The Daisy, Stanza 1; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). So dear a life your arms enfold, Whose crying is a cry for gold. The Daisy, Stanza 24; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). Read my little fable: He that runs may read. Most can raise the flowers now, For all have got the seed. The Flower; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). "I'll never love any but you," the morning song of the lark; "I'll never love any but you," the nightingale's hymn in the dark. The First Quarrel, stanza VI., lines 3-4; reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919).

My God, I would not live Save that I think this gross hard-seeming world Is our misshaping vision of the Powers Behind the world, that make our griefs our gains. The Sisters, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). Is morning-star to the full round of truth. Columbus, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). No sound is breathed so potent to coerce And to conciliate, as their names who dare For that sweet mother-land which gave them birth Nobly to do, nobly to die. Tiresias, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). A princelier-looking man never stept thro' a prince's hall. The Wreck, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). Slav, Teuton, Kelt, I count them all My friends and brother souls, With all the peoples, great and small, That wheel between the poles.

Epilogue to The Charge of the heavy Brigade, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). The song that nerves a nation's heart Is in itself a deed. Epilogue to The Charge of the Heavy Brigade, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). What use to brood? This life of mingled pains And joys to me, Despite of every Faith and Creed, remains The Mystery. To Mary Boyle, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). Be patient. Our Playwright may show In some fifth act what this wild Drama means. The Play, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). In our windy world What's up is faith, what's down is heresy. Harold, Act i, Scene 1, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). A breath that fleets beyond this iron world And touches him who made it. Harold, Act iii, Scene 2.

Old men must die, or the world would grow mouldy, would only breed the past again. Becket, Prologue, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). Ambition Is like the sea wave, which the more you drink The more you thirst—yea—drink too much, as men Have done on rafts of wreck—it drives you mad. The Cup, Act i, Scene 3, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). The night with sudden odour reeled; The southern stars a music pealed. The Rosebud, reported in Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, 10th ed. (1919). Death's truer name From the fountains of the past, To glorify the present; oh, haste, Visit my low desire! I faint in this obscurity, Thou dewy dawn of memory. In sweet dreams softer than unbroken rest Thou leddest by the hand thine infant Hope.

The eddying of her garments caught from thee The light of thy great presence; and the cope Of the half-attain'd futurity, Was cloven with the million stars which tremble O'er the deep mind of dauntless infancy. Come forth I charge thee, arise, Thou of the many tongues, the myriad eyes! Thou comest not with shows of flaunting vines Unto mine inner eye, Whither in after life retired From brawling storms, The poet in a golden clime was born, With golden stars above; Dower'd with the hate of hate, the scorn of scorn, The love of love. He saw thro' life and death, thro' good and ill, He saw thro' his own soul. The marvel of the everlasting will, An open scroll, Before him lay; with echoing feet he threaded The secretest walks of fame: The viewless arrows of his thoughts were headed And wing'd with flame, Like Indian reeds blown from his silver tongue... So many minds did gird their orbs with beams, Tho' one did fling the fire; Heaven flow'd upon the soul in many dreams Of high desire.

Thus truth was multiplied on truth, the world Like one great garden show'd, And thro' the wreaths of floating dark up-curl'd, Rare sunrise flow'd. There was no blood upon her maiden robes Sunn'd by those orient skies; But round about the circles of the globes Of her keen And in her raiment's hem was traced in flame WISDOM, a name to shake All evil dreams of power — a sacred name. And when she spake, Her words did gather thunder as they ran, And as the lightning to the thunder Which follows it, riving the spirit of man, Making earth wonder, So was their meaning to her words. No sword Of wrath her right arm whirl'd, But one poor poet's scroll, and with his word She shook the world. Lady Clara Vere de Vere, Of me you shall not win renown: You thought to break a country heart For pastime, ere you went to town. At me you smiled, but unbeguiled I saw the snare, and I retired; The daughter of a hundred earls, You are not one to be desired. Stanza 1. A simple maiden in her flower Is worth a hundred coats-of-arms. Stanza 2.

You sought to prove how I could love, And my disdain is my reply. The lion on your old stone gates Is not more cold to you than I. Stanza 3. Her manners had not that repose Which stamps the caste of Vere de Vere. Stanza 5. From yon blue heaven above us bent, The grand old gardener and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent. Stanza 7. Trust me, Clara Vere de Vere, From yon blue heavens above us bent The gardener Adam and his wife Smile at the claims of long descent. Howe'er it be, it seems to me, 'Tis only noble to be good. Kind hearts are more than coronets, And simple faith than Norman blood. Stanza 7. In the afternoon they came unto a land In which it seemed always afternoon. St. 1. There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dews on still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes. Choric Song, st. 1. There is no joy but calm! Choric Song, st.

2. Death is the end of life; ah, why Should life all labour be? Let us alone. Time driveth onward fast, And in a little while our lips are dumb. Let us alone. What is it that will last? All things are taken from us, and become Portions and parcels of the dreadful past. Let us alone. What pleasure can we have To war with evil? Is there any peace In ever climbing up the climbing wave? All things have rest, and ripen toward the grave In silence; ripen, fall and cease: Give us long rest or death, dark death, or dreamful ease. Choric Song, st. 4. Let us swear an oath, and keep it with an equal mind, In the hollow Lotos-land to live and lie reclined On the hills like Gods together, careless of mankind. Choric Song, st. 8. Surely, surely, slumber is more sweet than toil, the shore Than labour in the deep mid-ocean, wind and wave and oar; O, rest ye, brother mariners, we will not wander more. Choric Song, st. 8.

On either side the river lie Long fields of barley and of rye, That clothe the wold and meet the sky; And through the field the road runs by To many-towered Camelot. Little breezes dusk and shiver Through the wave that runs for ever By the island in the river Flowing down to Camelot. All in the blue unclouded weather Thick-jewelled shone the saddle-leather, The helmet and the helmet-feather Burned like one burning flame together, As he rode down to Camelot. Pt. III, st. 3. From the bank and from the river He flashed into the crystal mirror, "Tirra lirra," by the river Sang Sir Lancelot. She left the web, she left the loom, She made three paces through the room, She saw the water-lily bloom, She saw the helmet and the plume, She looked down to Camelot. Out flew the web and floated wide; The mirror cracked from side to side; "The curse is come upon me," cried The Lady of Shalott.

Lying, robed in snowy white That loosely flew to left and right — The leaves upon her falling light — Thro' the noises of the night, She floated down to Camelot: And as the boat-head wound along The willowy hills and fields among, They heard her singing her last song, The Lady of Shalott. It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. It little profits that an idle king, By this still hearth, among these barren crags, Match'd with an aged wife, I mete and dole Unequal laws unto a savage race, That hoard, and sleep, and feed, and know not me. l. 1-5.

I cannot rest from travel: I will drink Life to the lees: all times I have enjoy'd Greatly, have suffer'd greatly, both with those That loved me, and alone, on shore, and when Thro' scudding drifts the rainy Hyades Vext the dim sea: I am become a name; For always roaming with a hungry heart Much have I seen and known; cities of men And manners, climates, councils, governments, Myself not least, but honour'd of them all; And drunk delight of battle with my peers, Far on the ringing plains of windy Troy. 13 -17. I am part of all that I have met; Yet all experience is an arch wherethro' Gleams that untravell'd world, whose margin fades For ever and for ever when I move. l. 18 - 21. How dull it is to pause, to make an end, To rust unburnish'd, not to shine in use! As tho' to breath were life.

Life piled on life Were all too little, and of one to me Little remains: but every hour is saved From that eternal silence, something more, A bringer of new things; and vile it were For some three suns to store and hoard myself, And this gray spirit yearning in desire To follow knowledge like a sinking star, Beyond the utmost bound of human thought. l. 22-32. Souls that have toil'd, and wrought, and thought with me — That ever with a frolic welcome took The thunder and the sunshine, and opposed Free hearts, free foreheads — you and I are old; Old age hath yet his honor and his toil. Death closes all; but something ere the end, Some work of noble note, may yet be done, Not unbecoming men that strove with gods. l. 46-53. The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks; The long day wanes; the slow moon climbs; the deep Moans round with many voices. Come, my friends. 'Tis not too late to seek a newer world.

Push off, and sitting well in order smite The sounding furrows; for my purpose holds To sail beyond the sunset, and the baths Of all the western stars, until I die. l. 54-62. It may be that the gulfs will wash us down; It may be that we shall touch the Happy Isles, And see the great Achilles, whom we knew. Though much is taken, much abides; and though We are not now that strength which in old days Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are — One equal temper of heroic hearts, Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield. l. 63-70. The bodies and the bones of those That strove in other days to pass, Are wither'd in the thorny close, Or scatter'd blanching on the grass. He gazes on the silent dead: "They perish'd in their daring deeds." This proverb flashes thro' his head, "The many fail: the one succeeds." The Arrival, st. 2.

And on her lover's arm she leant, And round her waist she felt it fold, And far across the hills they went In that new world which is the old: Across the hills, and far away Beyond their utmost purple rim, And deep into the dying day The happy princess follow'd him. The Departure, st. 1. O eyes long laid in happy sleep! O happy sleep, that lightly fled! O happy kiss, that woke thy sleep! O love, thy kiss would wake the dead! The Departure, st. 3. And o'er the hills, and far away Beyond their utmost purple rim, Beyond the night, across the day, Thro' all the world she follow'd him. The Departure, st. 4. So, Lady Flora, take my lay, And if you find no moral there, Go, look in any glass and say, What moral is in being fair. Oh, to what uses shall we put The wildweed-flower that simply blows? And is there any moral shut Within the bosom of the rose? Moral, st. 1. Authority forgets a dying king, Laid widow’d of the power in his eye That bow’d the will.

Lines 121-123 Made lightnings in the splendour of the moon, And flashing round and round, and whirl'd in an arch, Shot like a streamer of the northern morn, Seen where the moving isles of winter shock By night, with noises of the northern sea. So flash'd and fell the brand Excalibur. Lines 136-142 My end draws nigh; 't is time that I were gone. Make broad thy shoulders to receive my weight Lines 163-164 When every morning brought a noble chance, And every chance brought out a noble knight. Lines 230-231 It was the time when lilies blow, And clouds are highest up in air. Lord Ronald brought a lily-white doe To give his cousin, Lady Clare. "He does not love me for my birth Nor for my lands so broad and fair; He loves me for my own true worth, And that is well," said Lady Clare.

"If I'm a beggar born," she said "I will speak out, for I dare not lie, Pull off, pull off the brooch of gold, And fling the diamond necklace by." "Nay now, my child," said Alice the nurse, "But keep the secret all you can." She said, "Not so; but I will know If there be any faith in man". She clad herself in a russet gown, She was no longer Lady Clare: She went by dale, and she went by down, With a single rose in her hair. The lily-white doe Lord Ronald had brought Leapt up from where she lay. Dropped her head in the maiden's hand. And followed her all the way. "If I come dressed like a village maid, I am but as my fortunes are: I am a beggar born," she said, "And not the Lady Clare". "If you are not the heiress born, And I," said he, "the lawful heir, We two will wed to-morrow morn, And you shall still be Lady Clare".

Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. Tears, idle tears, I know not what they mean, Tears from the depth of some divine despair Rise in the heart, and gather to the eyes, In looking on the happy Autumn-fields, And thinking of the days that are no more. St. 1. Fresh as the first beam glittering on a sail, That brings our friends up from the underworld, Sad as the last which reddens over one That sinks with all we love below the verge; So sad, so fresh, the days that are no more. St. 2. Dear as remembered kisses after death, And sweet as those by hopeless fancy feigned On lips that are for others; deep as love, Deep as first love , and wild with all regret; O Death in Life, the days that are no more! St. 4. Let us bury the Great Duke To the noise of the mourning of a mighty nation; Mourning when their leaders fall, Warriors carry the warrior's pall, And sorrow darkens hamlet and hall. St.

I. Lead out the pageant: sad and slow, As fits an universal woe, Let the long, long procession go, And let the sorrowing crowd about it grow, And let the mournful martial music blow; The last great Englishman is low. St. III. And, as the greatest only are, In his simplicity sublime. O good gray head which all men knew, O voice from which their omens all men drew, O iron nerve to true occasion true, O fallen at length that tower of strength Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew! St. IV. Which stood four-square to all the winds that blew. St. IV. For this is England's greatest son, He that gained a hundred fights, And never lost an English gun. St. VI. Yea, let all good things await Him who cares not to be great But as he saves or serves the state. Not once or twice in our rough island-story The path of duty was the way to glory.

He that walks it, only thirsting For the right, and learns to deaden Love of self, before his journey closes, He shall find the stubborn thistle bursting Into glossy purples, which outredden All voluptuous garden-roses. Speak no more of his renown, Lay your earthly fancies down, And in the vast cathedral leave him, God accept him, Christ receive him! St. IX. Based upon the military confrontation known as The Charge of the Light Brigade during the Battle of Balaclava of the Crimean War Half a league half a league Half a league onward All in the valley of Death Rode the six hundred: Charge for the guns' he said Into the valley of Death Rode the six hundred. Was there a man dismay'd? Not tho' the soldier 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 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. 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. Perfectly beautiful: let it be granted her: where is the fault? All that I saw (for her eyes were downcast, not to be seen) Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly null, Dead perfection, no more. That jewelled mass of millinery, That oiled and curled Assyrian Bull. Part I, section vi, stanza 6. One still strong man in a blatant land. Part I, section x, stanza 5. And ah for a man to arise in me, That the man I am may cease to be! Part I, section x, stanza 6.

Who shall call me ungentle, unfair, I long'd so heartily then and there To give him the grasp of fellowship; But while I past he was humming an air, Stopt, and then with a riding whip, Leisurely tapping a glossy boot, And curving a contumelious lip, Gorgonised me from head to foot With a stony British stare. Part I, section xiii, stanza 2. Come into the garden, Maud, For the black bat, night, has flown, Come into the garden, Maud, I am here at the gate alone; And the woodbine spices are wafted abroad, And the musk of the rose is blown. Part I, section xxii, stanza 1. For a breeze of morning moves, And the planet of Love is on high, Beginning to faint in the light that she loves On a bed of daffodil sky, To faint in the light of the sun she loves, To faint in his light, and to die. Part I, section xxii, stanza 2. All night have the roses heard The flute, violin, bassoon; To strike too soon is oft to miss the blow. Act iii, scene 6.

My lord, you know what Virgil sings— Woman is various and most mutable. Act iii, scene 6. To do him any wrong was to beget A kindness from him, for his heart was rich— Of such fine mould that if you sowed therein The seed of Hate, it blossomed Charity. Act iv, scene 1. Remember that sore saying spoken once By Him that was the Truth, 'How hard it is For the rich man to enter into heaven!' Let all rich men remember that hard word. Act iv, scene 3. Come out, my lord, it is a world of fools. Act iv, scene 3. At Flores in the Azores Sir Richard Grenville lay, And a pinnace, like a fluttered bird, came flying from far away: "Spanish ships of war at sea! we have sighted fifty-three!" Then sware Lord Thomas Howard: "'Fore God I am no coward; But I cannot meet them here, for my ships are out of gear, And the half my men are sick. I must fly, but follow quick. We are six ships of the line; can we fight with fifty-three?" St. 1.

Then spake Sir Richard Grenville: "I know you are no coward; You fly them for a moment to fight with them again. But I've ninety men and more that are lying sick ashore. I should count myself the coward if I left them, my Lord Howard, To these Inquisition dogs and the devildoms of Spain." St. 2. "Shall we fight or shall we fly? Good Sir Richard, tell us now, For to fight is but to die! There'll be little of us left by the time this sun be set." And Sir Richard said again: "We be all good English men. Let us bang these dogs of Seville, the children of the devil, For I never turn'd my back upon Don or devil yet." St. 4. Sir Richard spoke and he laughed, and we roared a hurrah, and so The little Revenge ran on sheer into the heart of the foe, With her hundred fighters on deck, and her ninety sick below; For half of their fleet to the right and half to the left were seen, And the little Revenge ran on through the long sea-lane between. St. 5.

Love your enemy, bless your haters, said the Greatest of the great ; Christian love among the Churches looked the twin of heathen hate. Line 85. Charm us, orator, till the lion look no larger than the cat. Line 112. You that woo the Voices—tell them "Old Experience is a fool"; Teach your flattered kings that only those who can not read can rule. Line 131. Authors—essayist, atheist, novelist, realist, rhymester, play your part, Paint the mortal shame of nature with the living hues of art. Line 139. Who can fancy warless men? Warless? War will die out late then. Will it ever? late or soon? Can it, till this outworn earth be dead as yon dead world the moon? Line 172. Yet the moonlight is the sunlight and the sun himself will pass. Line 182. Is there evil but on earth? or pain in every peopled sphere? Line 197. Is there evil but on earth? Or pain in every peopled sphere? Well, be grateful for the sounding watchword "Evolution" here.

Line 198. Evolution ever climbing after some ideal good And Reversion ever dragging Evolution in the mud. Line 200. Follow you the star that lights a desert pathway, yours or mine. Forward, till you see the Highest Human Nature is divine. Line 275. Love will conquer at the last. Line 280. Fires that shook me once, but now to silent ashes fall'n away. Cold upon the dead volcano sleeps the gleam of dying day. Stanza 21. Staled by frequence, shrunk by usage into commonest commonplace! Stanza 38. Here and there a cotter's babe is royal—born by right divine; Here and there my lord is lower than his oxen or his swine. Stanza 63. Nor is he the wisest man who never proved himself a fool. Stanza 124. Sleep, mournful heart, and let the past be past: Sleep, happy soul, all life will sleep at last.

Song, Act I, Scene ii Friends, I am only merry for an hour or two Upon a birthday: if this life of ours Be a good glad thing, why should we make us merry Because a year of it is gone? but Hope Smiles from the threshold of the year to come Whispering 'It will be happier;' and old faces Press round us, and warm hands close with warm hands, And thro' the blood the wine leaps to the brain Like April sap to the topmost tree, that shoots New buds to heaven, whereon the throstle rock'd Sings a new song to the new year — and you, Strike up a song, my friends, and then to bed. Act I, Scene III. War Poetry :: English Literature Alfred Tennyson and Wilfred Owen present different ideas about war in their poems, “The Charge of the Light Brigade” and “Dulce et Decorum est”. Write about these poems and their effect on you. “The Charge of the Light Brigade” was written by Alfred, Lord Tennyson, about The Battle of Balaclava which took place in 1854.

Tennyson wrote the poem using information from an article in The Times and it remembers the bravery of the outnumbered cavalry men who were wrongly sent into battle. “Dulce et Decorum est” was written by Wilfred Owen during the First World War. It was written to show the truth about war and to illustrate that it is not a good thing to die for your country. “The Charge of the Light Brigade ” has six verses. The third, fourth and fifth stanzas concentrate on the battle itself. The main part of the battle is depicted in verse four and tells how the soldiers were “sabring the gunners” and how “Cossack and Russian reeled” portraying the victory of the Light Brigade. The final stanza is a message from the poet to “honour the Light Brigade” and not to forget what the six hundred men did. The poem has a constant rhyming pattern all the way through with words like “blundered”, “hundred”, “thundered” and “wondered” or “shell”, “fell” and “well”. Having this rhyming pattern throughout makes the poem seem to flow more easily and gives it a more prominent structure.

It emulates the pace of the battle which was over in twenty minutes. The rhythm of “The Charge of the Light Brigade” mimics the sound of horses’ hooves by using tripling such as “half a league, half a league, half a league onward” the sound of galloping horses is continued when the poet uses words like “volleyed and thundered”. Tennyson draws attention to the fact that The Battle of Balaclava was one of the biggest military blunders ever made in his poem by writing “Into the jaws of death, into the mouth of hell” showing that to send the Light Brigade into battle was wrong and that hardly any of them would return. In verse two the poet informs the reader that the soldiers knew that a mistake had been made but followed the orders anyway. The lines “Theirs not to make reply, theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do and die” show that the soldiers could not refuse to go into battle, even if they knew “someone had blundered”, all they had to do was go into battle and die. Tennyson shows admiration for the Light Brigade in his poem.

How to Cite this Page MLA Citation: “boldly they rode and well” depicting that although the soldiers knew many of them of them would not return, they still went into battle and fought well. Tennyson also displays pity for the soldiers by writing “while horse and hero fell” suggesting that the horses and their riders should never have been sent into battle. Although Tennyson’s poem shows that the Light Brigade was wrongly sent into battle, he gives a definite impression that the soldiers actually died heroically. Wilfred Owen tells the truth about war in “Dulce et Decorum est” and shows that there is definitely nothing heroic about dying in battle. “Dulce et Decorum est” has three verses, none of which are the same length. Each verse could possibly represent a different stage in the experience of war and to show that nothing is equal. The first stanza tells the reader of how the soldiers were “coughing like hags” and how they were “drunk with fatigue” showing just how awful the conditions in the war were. The first stanza also tells that although they were exhausted when the call of “Gas!

Gas!” came; they were still fast enough to put on their masks before it was too late, apart from one man who was just too “drunk” to help himself. The second verse consists of just two lines. Wilfred Owen uses the two lines to show that even though it was an everyday occurrence for a man to die, it still attacked his dreams every single night. The two lines are written in present tense, this suggests that Owen wanted to show that the events of war would haunt the soldiers’ everyday until they died. The final stanza describes how awful it actually was to die from the gas and how Owen and his regiment had “flung” the dying man behind a wagon because they could not wait to give him a proper burial. The final verse finishes with a message, “The old lie: Dulce et decorum est pro patria mori”, that to die for your country is not an honour.

Owen uses a variety of metaphors and similes to convey his point, examples of this are “obscene as cancer”, cancer is a horrible disease which has taken many lives and reflects the violence of war, “coughing like hags”, implying they are old and weary and “like a devil’s sick of sin”, this indicates that they all feel it is wrong to be killing people and are sick of it but there is no way to get out of it. All of these metaphors and similes suggest something bad and again tell the reader how awful war is. There is a constant rhyming pattern throughout, the first line and the third, the second with the fourth and so on. This gives the impression that nothing is equal in war but it is a repetitive experience. I think this poem is more powerful than “The Charge of the Light Brigade” because Alfred, Lord Tennyson was not at the Battle of Balaclava but Wilfred Owen saw all the horrors of the First World War and was able to give a correct image of what actually happened in battle.

The Charge of the Light Brigade - Poems | Academy of American Poets Academy of American Poets The Academy of American Poets is the largest membership-based nonprofit organization fostering an appreciation for contemporary poetry and supporting American poets. For over three generations, the Academy has connected millions of people to great poetry through programs such as National Poetry Month, the largest literary celebration in the world; Poets.org, the Academy’s popular website; American Poets, a biannual literary journal; and an annual series of poetry readings and special events. Since its founding, the Academy has awarded more money to poets than any other organization. browse poems & poets sign up to receive a new poem-a-day in your inbox sign up read this poet's poems Born on August 6, 1809, in Somersby, Lincolnshire, England, Alfred Tennyson is one of the most well-loved Victorian poets. Tennyson, the fourth of twelve children, showed an early talent for writing. At the age of twelve he wrote a 6,000-line epic poem. His father, the Reverend George Tennyson, tutored his sons in classical and modern languages.

In the 1820s, however, Tennyson's father began to suffer frequent mental breakdowns that were exacerbated by alcoholism. One of Tennyson's brothers had violent quarrels with his father, a second was later confined to an insane asylum, and another became an opium addict. Tennyson escaped home in 1827 to attend Trinity College, Cambridge. In that same year, he and his brother Charles published Poems by Two Brothers. Although the poems in the book were mostly juvenilia, they attracted the attention of the "Apostles," an undergraduate literary club led by Arthur Hallam. The "Apostles" provided Tennyson, who was tremendously shy, with much needed friendship and confidence as a poet. Hallam and Tennyson became the best of friends; they toured Europe together in 1830 and again in 1832. Hallam's sudden death in 1833 greatly affected the young poet. The long elegy In Memoriam and many of Tennyson's other poems are tributes to Hallam.

In 1830, Tennyson published Poems, Chiefly Lyrical and in 1832 he published a second volume entitled simply Poems. Some reviewers condemned these books as "affected" and "obscure." Tennyson, stung by the reviews, would not publish another book for nine years. In 1836, he became engaged to Emily Sellwood. When he lost his inheritance on a bad investment in 1840, Sellwood's family called off the engagement. In 1842, however, Tennyson's Poems in two volumes was a tremendous critical and popular success. In 1850, with the publication of In Memoriam, Tennyson became one of Britain's most popular poets. He was selected Poet Laureate in succession to Wordsworth . In that same year, he married Emily Sellwood. They had two sons, Hallam and Lionel. At the age of 41, Tennyson had established himself as the most popular poet of the Victorian era.

The money from his poetry (at times exceeding 10,000 pounds per year) allowed him to purchase a house in the country and to write in relative seclusion. His appearance—a large and bearded man, he regularly wore a cloak and a broad brimmed hat—enhanced his notoriety. He read his poetry with a booming voice, often compared to that of Dylan Thomas . In 1859, Tennyson published the first poems of Idylls of the Kings, which sold more than 10,000 copies in one month. In 1884, he accepted a peerage, becoming Alfred Lord Tennyson. Tennyson died on October 6, 1892, and was buried in Westminster Abbey.

Question: Which poet wrote the lines: “Theirs is not to question why, Theirs is but to do and die”?
Answer: Alfred Lord TENNYSON