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Thomas Hardy

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.

About the poet
Thomas Hardy
 
By the same poet
The Darkling Thrush
The Ruined Maid
Ah, Are You Digging on My Grave?
Neutral Tones
The Voice
During Wind and Rain
Drummer Hodge
The Convergence of the Twain
At an Inn
A Broken Appointment
In Time of ‘The Breaking of Nations’
The Oxen
Afterwards
The Self-Unseeing
Wessex Heights
To an Unborn Pauper Child
The Going
 
Related books
Thomas Hardy at amazon.co.uk

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