Page:Rudyard Kipling's verse - Inclusive Edition 1885-1918.djvu/247

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page has been validated.
INCLUSIVE EDITION, 1885-1918
229
They had neither food nor money, they had neither service nor trade;

They were only shiftless soldiers, the last of the Light Brigade.

They felt that life was fleeting; they knew not that art was long,

That though they were dying of famine, they lived in deathless song.

They asked for a little money to keep the wolf from the door;

And the thirty million English sent twenty pounds and four!


They laid their heads together that were scarred and lined and gray;

Keen were the Russian sabres, but want was keener than they;

And an old troop sergeant muttered, "Let us go to the man who writes

The things on Balaclava the kiddies at school recites."


They went without bands or colours, a regiment ten-file strong,

To look for the Master-singer who had crowned them all in his song;

And, waiting his servant's order, by the garden gate they stayed,

A desolate little cluster, the last of the Light Brigade.


They strove to stand to attention, to straighten the toil-bowed back;

They drilled on an empty stomach, the loose-knit files fell slack;

With stooping of weary shoulders, in garments tattered and frayed,

They shambled into his presence, the last of the Light Brigade.