Okay. I’m thinking of a poem. I cannot, for the life of me, remember the title or the poet. We read it in sophomore year of high school, as we were reading All Quiet on the Western Front. The poem, I believe, is narrated by a soldier (British, I think). He’s talking about the enemy he’s facing on the battlefield, and how, if they weren’t in war, then they’d maybe meet in a pub, have a few drinks, etc. Instead, he shoots him.
IIRC, it’s a fairly well-known poem. From my horrible description, can anyone take a stab at at least a title or poet?