The Grenadier's Good-Bye

A poem by Henry Newbolt

"When Lieutenant Murray fell, the only words he spoke were,
'Forward, Grenadiers!'"---Press Telegram.

Here they halted, here once more
Hand from hand was rent;
Here his voice above the roar
Rang, and on they went.
Yonder out of sight they crossed,
Yonder died the cheers;
One word lives where all is lost---
"Forward, Grenadiers!"

This alone he asked of fame,
This alone of pride;
Still with this he faced the flame,
Answered Death, and died.
Crest of battle sunward tossed,
Song of the marching years,
This shall live though all be lost---
"Forward, Grenadiers!"

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