| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917. |
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| 153. The Man He Killed |
| | | By Thomas Hardy |
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| “HAD he and I but met | |
| By some old ancient inn, | |
| We should have sat us down to wet | |
| Right many a nipperkin! | |
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| “But ranged as infantry, | 5 |
| And staring face to face, | |
| I shot at him as he at me, | |
| And killed him in his place. | |
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| “I shot him dead because— | |
| Because he was my foe, | 10 |
| Just so—my foe of course he was; | |
| That’s clear enough; although | |
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| “He thought he’d ’list, perhaps, | |
| Off-hand like—just as I— | |
| Was out of work—had sold his traps— | 15 |
| No other reason why. | |
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| “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.” | 20 |
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