PARACELSUS IN EXCELSIS 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.