Weekend Reflection
2011 March 4
The Man He Killed
Had he and I but met
By some old ancient inn,
We should have set 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 (1840-1928)
2 Responses
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Hi there my dear colleagues! Thanks for this beautiful poem. The emotion in it is very profound and reach the deep end our souls. This poem brought to my mind a very brilliant aria from an opera from Handel back in the 18th century were war was raging amongst the heathens. This text is of actuality nowadays and wanted to share it with the readers and the bloggers
War, he sung, is toil and trouble,
Honour but an empty bubble,
Never ending, still beginning,
Fighting still, and still destroying;
Powerful isnt it?
Anyway, check a performance by famous opera singers on youtube and you will find the majesty of this song.
I send you my greetings from Zimbabwe, an altered State where ordinary miracle happen. Zimbabwe, a land of pure magic and an absolute beatuy: taste the rainbow.
Let’s share our love for Africa and for the culture of that beguiling continent.
Cheers, Karl.
Hi Karl,
I’m so glad you enjoyed the poem and the aria you shared is beautiful!