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
circling flight.
I am the soft starlight
at night.
Do not stand at my grave
and cry,
I am not there; I did not
die.
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