Philip Crick
Companions
They are near, very near.
Their throats throb,
and their glances haunt. They take
us by the hand and touch silence.
They are near, very
near,
and though their tongues are dry
they would tell us what they know
Of an orchard of stars
of the swing of a bell
of the passage of a yawl
from the white harbour.
Page(s) 71
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