Garden of Death

Hmm... about the title. Garden of Death or Valley of Death? I can't really decide... just vote in the comments or something.
As you can maybe guess this poem is heavily based on two other poems that I really enjoy. One poem provided me with subject matter and the second with what Pyro labels as a "poem base"- basically rhythm and rhyme scheme.
Enjoy!

Garden of Death

I walked amongst the valley

Where all was sleeping still

That fateful fruitless rally

That charge straight down the hill

Refusal to surrender

The chances less than slender

A fiery death of splendour

Where crimson blood did spill

So many leagues they travelled

They travelled to their end

The plan became unravelled

But they did not amend

It wasn’t theirs to question

Nor make a small suggestion

Just die at their discretion

As mountain they descend

 The gleaming clash of sabres

The storm of shot and shell

The futile charge of army

In to the mouth of hell

Some bureaucrat had blundered

And so the cannon thundered

And left dead all six hundred

While horse and hero fell

The men were tired and weary

The cannons all around

And tested was a theory

As they fall to the ground

That death in war is noble

The concept became global

And fixed in time immobile

As corpses slowly browned

 The valley rests in silence

The zeal of vain glory

That good can come from violence

“Pro patria mori”

And beneath eternal night

Is a brigade made of light

Who are upheld shining bright

By telling their story

And now the thick, soft quiet

Envelops all that see

The remnant of a riot

Of inane destiny

Red rivulets of sand

A cold immortal hand

Alone in foreign land

Is all they’ve come to be