The Last Of The Light Brigade Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis
Rhyme Scheme: AABB CCDD EEFB CCBB GGBB BBHH BBIB JBKK BBBB| There were thirty million English who talked of England's might | A |
| There were twenty broken troopers who lacked a bed for the night | A |
| They had neither food nor money they had neither service nor trade | B |
| They were only shiftless soldiers the last of the Light Brigade | B |
| - | |
| They felt that life was fleeting they knew not that art was long | C |
| That though they were dying of famine they lived in deathless song | C |
| They asked for a little money to keep the wolf from the door | D |
| And the thirty million English sent twenty pounds and four | D |
| - | |
| They laid their heads together that were scarred and lined and grey | E |
| Keen were the Russian sabres but want was keener than they | E |
| And an old Troop Sergeant muttered quot Let us go to the man who writes | F |
| The things on Balaclava the kiddies at school recites quot | B |
| - | |
| They went without bands or colours a regiment ten file strong | C |
| To look for the Master singer who had crowned them all in his song | C |
| And waiting his servant's order by the garden gate they stayed | B |
| A desolate little cluster the last of the Light Brigade | B |
| - | |
| They strove to stand to attention to straighten the toil bowed back | G |
| They drilled on an empty stomach the loose knit files fell slack | G |
| With stooping of weary shoulders in garments tattered and frayed | B |
| They shambled into his presence the last of the Light Brigade | B |
| - | |
| The old Troop Sergeant was spokesman and quot Beggin' your pardon quot he said | B |
| quot You wrote o' the Light Brigade sir Here's all that isn't dead | B |
| An' it's all come true what you wrote sir regardin' the mouth of hell | H |
| For we're all of us nigh to the workhouse an we thought we'd call an' tell | H |
| - | |
| quot No thank you we don't want food sir but couldn't you take an' write | B |
| A sort of 'to be continued' and 'see next page' o' the fight | B |
| We think that someone has blundered an' couldn't you tell 'em how | I |
| You wrote we were heroes once sir Please write we are starving now quot | B |
| - | |
| The poor little army departed limping and lean and forlorn | J |
| And the heart of the Master singer grew hot with quot the scorn of scorn quot | B |
| And he wrote for them wonderful verses that swept the land like flame | K |
| Till the fatted souls of the English were scourged with the thing called Shame | K |
| - | |
| O thirty million English that babble of England's might | B |
| Behold there are twenty heroes who lack their food to night | B |
| Our children's children are lisping to quot honour the charge they made quot | B |
| And we leave to the streets and the workhouse the charge of the Light Brigade | B |
Rudyard Kipling
(2)
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