Sweet heady wine—but now I understand
You would refute me out of my own mouth;
And yet a place at table near the King
Is nothing of great moment, Seanchan.
How does so light a thing touch poetry?
[Seanchan is now sitting up. He still looks dreamily in front of him.
Seanchan.
At Candlemas you called this poetry
One of the fragile mighty things of God
That die at an insult.