He looked at a world of incredible loveliness. Old distaff Celt's blood in some back chamber of his brain moved him to discourse with the birches, with the oaks. A cool green fire kept breaking in the woods and he could hear the footsteps of the dead. Everything had fallen from him. He scarce could tell where his being ended or the world began nor did he care. He lay on his back in the gravel, the earth's core sucking his bones, a moment's giddy vertigo with this illusion of falling outward through blue and windy space, over the offside of the planet, hurtling through the high thin cirrus.
The passage describes a profound experience in which the protagonist perceives the beauty of the world around him. His Celtic lineage seems to connect him deeply with nature, as he feels a sense of communion with trees and the environment. This connection evokes a sense of tranquility, allowing him to embrace the moment wholly, feeling the presence of history and the dead as if they are part of the landscape.
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