Synopsis

Pile the pyre, light the fire-there is fuel enough and to spare; You have fire enough and to spare with your madness and gladness; Burn the old year-it is dead, and dead, and done. There is something under the sun that I cannot bear: I cannot bear this sadness under the sun, I cannot bear this sun upon all this sadness. Here on this prophecy, here on this leafless log, Log upon log, and leafless on leafless, I sit.