Being no longer human, why should I
Pretend humanity or don the frail attire?
Men have I known and men, but never one
Was grown so free an essence, or become
So simply element as what I am.
The mist goes from the mirror and I see.
Behold ! The world of forms is swept beneath —
Turmoil grown visible beneath our peace —
And we that are grown formless, rise above
Fluids intangible that have been men.
We seem as statues round whose high-risen base
Some overflowing river is run mad,
In us alone the element of calm.
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