Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there; I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glint on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain
I am in gentle autumn rain,
When you awaken in the morning hush
I am swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight
I am the star-shine at night
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I do not die
Mary Elizabeth Frye (1905 – 2004)
