  I dreamed a fine net so my vision could claim The breath of his being, the wealth of his name. In long hours I wove it from midnight to day, As the weft of the air directed my way. With stealth I proceeded, with guile my wit travelled Until all dark knots I had wholly unraveled. Freed threads fell like down through the warm of the breeze While the Alder in safety was taking his ease-- Unwarded, unwitnessed, drowsing alone, Like a trout set for tickling beneath a dead stone. Caught napping at noontide, unkeyed was his keeping: He unlocked his lips and spoke naked while sleeping-- Stripped as a sacrifice, naked as flame, Naked as hatred, I heard his true name-- A name to slice silence or sever strong rock, An unuttered tonguing, a hush like a shock. Few list'ners could bide the brude stroke of that sign: &nbsp&nbsp&nbspKnowing was vict'ry--- &nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbsp&nbspAnd knowing was mine! 
