Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). The New Poetry: An Anthology. 1917.
The Man He Killed
By Thomas Hardy
“H
By some old ancient inn,
We should have sat us down to wet
Right many a nipperkin!
And staring face to face,
I shot at him as he at me,
And killed him in his place.
Because he was my foe,
Just so—my foe of course he was;
That’s clear enough; although
Off-hand like—just as I—
Was out of work—had sold his traps—
No other reason why.
You shoot a fellow down
You’d treat if met where any bar is,
Or help to half-a-crown.”