The air was soft and dead,as if all the world were slowly dying grey, clammy, and silent.even from the suffling of the collieries,for the pits were working short time,and today they were stooped alltogether.
in the wood all was utterly inert and motionless,only great droops fell from the bare boughs,with a hollow ltle crash. for the rest among the old trees was depth within depth of grey,hopeless inertia,silence,nothingness.
i walk dimly on,from the old wood came an ancient melancholy,somehow sooting to me.better than the harsh insentience of the outer world.
i lked the inwordness of the remnant of forest,the unspeaking reticence of the old trees,waiting obstinately,stoically,and giving of a potency of silence.
Perhaps,they were only waiting for the end to be cut down,cleared away,the end of the forest,for the end of all things!
but,perhaps their strong and aristocratic silence,the silence of strong trees,meant something else or is really an end of all things.....
