The Man He Killed

 

The Man He Killed

 

Had he and I but met

            By some old ancient inn,

We should have sat us down to wet

            Right many a nipperkin!

 

            But ranged as infantry,

            And staring face to face,

I shot at him as he at me,

            And killed him in his place.

 

            I shot him dead because —

            Because he was my foe,

Just so: my foe of course he was;

            That’s clear enough; although

 

            He thought he’d ‘list, perhaps,

            Off-hand like — just as I —

Was out of work — had sold his traps —

            No other reason why.

 

            Yes; quaint and curious war is!

            You shoot a fellow down

You’d treat if met where any bar is,

            Or help to half-a-crown.

 

                          – Thomas Hardy

 

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