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The wearying search after something that corresponds to the perfect ideal in one's brain, the constant raising of hope and ensuing disappointment as a misshapen foot or crooked knee destroys the effect of neck and shoulder, produce at last an intolerable irritation. I had dismissed them all finally, and they had trailed away in the rain, a dismal procession of dark-clothed women.
He himself was useless; and therefore ignored. At the end of the children's hour he said good night miserably, and trailed along home at his parents' heels. Ordinarily he liked to be out after dark. The stars and the velvet shadows and the magic transformations which the night wrought in the most ordinary and accustomed things attracted him strongly.
They took the first hedge like sheep in a bunch, bit to bit, and stirrups a-jingle; And so past the Stand to the broad water-jump, where three went down, in a tangle. I trailed at the heels of the Silver Gray but Crusader was begging for halter And flew the wide ditch with the swoop of a bird, and on again, lapped on his quarter.
I didn't know he was such a sprinter, but we trailed along behind, roaring like lions and snarling like tigers and yip-yapping like hyenas and barking like timber wolves, and we couldn't see dad for the dust, on that moonlight night.
The keeper of the general merchandise store, from whom Marcus had borrowed a second pony, had informed them that Cribbens and his partner, whose description tallied exactly with that given in the notice of reward, had outfitted at his place with a view to prospecting in the Panamint hills. The posse trailed them at once to their first camp at the head of the valley. It was an easy matter.
Her eyes were dim with unshed tears; but she held her chin high and trailed her bit of a train with dignity. Morrison folded the paper and put it away. He took a turn up and down the long room, confronting the portrait faces in turn. He eyed them as if he were approaching them on a matter where there now could be a better understanding than on the subject suggested by the slip of paper.
The dewy fragrance of the flowers trailed out behind the buggy, mingling with the swirling dust, then both settled into the empty road, under the burning brightness of the sun, the insensate beauty of the azure sky. In the clear glow of a lengthening twilight of spring Gordon Makimmon sauntered into Simmons' store.
The short priest was wearing a crumpled and extremely long robe of some shabby yellow material; the hem of the robe trailed on the ground. The church was not full. Looking at the parishioners, Kunin was struck at the first glance by one strange circumstance: he saw nothing but old people and children. . . . Where were the men of working age? Where was the youth and manhood?
Two of them were sick and white; they lurched in their saddles, and were supported by their comrades, but it was not upon them that the eyes of the onlookers centered. Through the filth of the street behind the cavalcade trailed a limp bundle of rags which had once been a man. It was tied to a rope and it dragged heavily; its limbs were loose; its face, blackened by mud, stared blindly skyward.
And here he composed the "Lines Written in Early Spring" almost the first notes of his new poetic power: "I heard a thousand blended notes, While in a grove I sat reclined, In that sweet mood when pleasant thoughts Bring sad thoughts to the mind. "Through primrose tufts, in that green bower, The periwinkle trailed its leaves; And 'tis my faith that every flower Enjoys the air it breathes."
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