How often have you thrown a feast of sight
So soft and sweet and how often have I,
Fondling long the taste of that delicious pie,
Feasted full, still whetting my appetite.
How often have I drunk the deep delight
Of that brooklet that runs from eye to eye.
And often from those slumberous cups you shy
Those love-ly beams on me that love invite.
An incomplete sonnet written in 1965 just after the Masters exam