In bed I muse on Tenier's boors, <br />Embrowned and beery losels all; <br />A wakeful brain <br />Elaborates pain: <br />Within low doors the slugs of boors <br />Laze and yawn and doze again. <br /> <br />In dreams they doze, the drowsy boors, <br />Their hazy hovel warm and small: <br />Thought's ampler bound <br />But chill is found: <br />Within low doors the basking boors <br />Snugly hug the ember-mound. <br /> <br />Sleepless, I see the slumberous boors <br />Their blurred eyes blink, their eyelids fall: <br />Thought's eager sight <br />Aches--overbright! <br />Within low doors the boozy boors <br />Cat-naps take in pipe-bowl light.<br /><br />Herman Melville<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-bench-of-boors/
