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. A New Year Greeting
2. The Common Life
3. We Too Had Known Golden Hours
4. Grub First, Then Ethics
5. Moon Landing

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