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Spoom, spōōm, v.i. to scud before the wind.—adj.

On last week's Clip joint, Spoom did a double take on the best film clips displaying identical twins.

“A weary weed, tossed to and fro, Drearily drenched in the ocean brine, Soaring high and sinking low, Lashed along without will of mine; Sport of the spoom of the surging sea; Flung on the foam, afar and near, Mark my manifold mystery–– Growth and grace in their place appear.”

A weary weed, toss'd to and fro, Drearily drench'd in the ocean brine, Soaring high and sinking low, Lashed along without will of mine,— Sport of the spoom of the surging sea, Flung on the foam afar and anear, Mark my manifold mystery,— Growth and grace in their place appear.

Even in great manufacturing towns, it is very common, when passing cotton mills at work, to hear some fine psalm tune streaming in chorus from female voices, and mingling with the spoom of thousands of spindles.