Do not stand at my grave and weep
By Mary Elizabeth Frye
Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there
I do not sleep
I am a thousand winds that blowI am the diamond glints on snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rainWhen you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rushOf quiet birds in circled flight
I am the soft stars that shine at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there
I did not die