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.
"Forward, the Light Brigade!
Charge for the guns!" he said:
Into the valley of Death 
Rode the six hundred.


"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 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,
Charging an army, while
All the world wonder'd:
Plunged in the battery-smoke
Right thro' the line they broke;
Cossack and Russian
Reel'd from the sabre-stroke
Shatter'd 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 them
Volley'd and thunder'd;
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.


When can their glory fade?
O the wild charge they made!
All the world wonder'd.
Honor the charge they made!
Honor the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!