Poem by Wystan Hugh Auden

I Have No Gun, But I Can Spit

Some thirty inches from my nose
The frontier of my Person goes,
And all the untilled air between
Is private pagus or demesne.
Stranger, unless with bedroom eyes
I beckon you to fraternize,
Beware of rudely crossing it:
I have no gun, but I can spit.

1. O What Is That Sound
2. Under Which Lyre
3. Atlantis
4. For What As Easy
5. The Geography of the House

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