No More Learning

Instead of subsiding as night drew on, it seemed to
augment its rush and deepen its roar: the trees blew           one way,
never writhing round, and scarcely tossing back their boughs once in an
hour; so continuous was the strain bending their branchy heads
northward--the clouds drifted from pole to pole, fast following, mass on
mass: no glimpse of blue sky had been visible that July day.