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)