The horns in the harbor booming, vaguely, br Fog, forgotten, yesterday, conclusion, br Nostalgic, noising dim sorrow, calling br To sleep is it? I think so, and childhood, br Not the door opened and the stair descended, br The voice answered, the choice announced, the br Trigger touched in the sharp declaration! br br And when it comes, escape is small; the door br Creaks; the worms of fear spread veins; the furtive br Fugitive, looking backward, sees his br Ghost in the mirror, his shameful eyes, his mouth diseased.