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 glints on snow,
I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush,
Of quiet birds in circle flight.
I am the soft star that shines on night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
