This poem, read at Ian Home's memorial is very apt for us all.
Life Cycle
When you cart me to the graveyard,
Plant a vine upon my breast.
I shall know my alcoholic heart
By its tendril roots caressed.
I shall feel my mortal substance
Back to wine transmogrified
And shall thrill to taste its branches
Drawing up the rising tide.
When you tread the ripened bunches
And the festive cup goes round,
Pour a little of that vintage
Back upon the thirsty ground.
As I pay my debt to nature,
Mingling once more among men,
This shall be my consummation
And my hope to rise again.
AD Hope
My favourite AD Hope poem
"Paper Tiger"
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