A Houyhnhnm's Scrapbook/Number 1/The Carrel

You sit within a whisper of me,
So close I can hear you breathe;
Only a slender partition between us,
Yet it might as well be a Himalayan wall—
You in Tibet, and I in Nepal;
You turn the pages of your lama book,
Refusing me a visa.

Oh, I could defy your borders
And violate your territorial integrity
With a rising motion and a step or two,
And a remark about the weather.
(You would have to yield then, of course:
My forces are no bluff,
And my diplomacy simply serves
To mask my blunt intent.)
But I have much too much respect for world opinion
To invade your two square yards of frozen steppe
And risk UN reprisal.
No, no, my love—your cubicle is safe;
I would not flame an Eastern war.