Author Arthur Hugh Clough The syringe cloud of aspirationWh[ich] travelling o'er the ocean of our soulSuddenly drops and sucks its waters up[Can't?] do it surely, cannot, must not doMerely as the idle schoolboy with a quillJust for the fun of letting them fall again. Tags Short Poems Rate this poem Select ratingGive it 1/5Give it 2/5Give it 3/5Give it 4/5Give it 5/5 No votes yet Rate Log in or register to post comments