Sustenance and Covering

I leave this notice on my door

For each accustomed visitor:

'I am gone into the fields

To take what this sweet hour yields;

Reflection, you may come tomorrow,

Sit by the fireside of Sorrow.

You with the unpaid bill, Despair,

You tiresome verse-recitor, Care,

I will pay you in the grave,

Death will listen to your stave.

Expectation too, be off!

Today is for itself enough...'

Percy Bysshe Shelley