THE BENCH OF BOORS (Herman Melville)

In bed I muse on Tenier's boors,
Embrowned and beery losels all:
            A wakeful brain
            Elaborates pain:
Within low doors the slugs of boors
Laze and yawn and doze again.

In dreams they doze, the drowsy boors,
Their hazy hovel warm and small;
             Thought's ampler bound
              But chill is found:
Within low doors the basking boors
Snuggly hug the ember-mound.

Sleepless, I see the slumberous boors
Their blurred eyes blink, their eyelids fall:
             Thought's eager sight
             Aches---overbright!
Within low doors the boozy boors
Cat-naps take in pipe-bowl light.


Herman Melville