"Forward, the Light Brigade!" Was there a man dismay'd? Not tho' the soldier knew Some one had blunder'd: Theirs not to make reply, Theirs not to rea… - Alfred Tennyson

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.

Their’s not to make reply,
Their’s not to reason why,
Their’s but to do and die

Ours not to reason why, ours but to do or die.

There's not to reason why,
There's but to do and die

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

Ours is not to reason why, ours is but to do or die

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, Divinest Memory!

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!

To persecute Makes a faith hated, and is furthermore No perfect witness of a perfect faith In him who persecutes.