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Do Not Stand at my Grave and Weep

(Mary Frye 1932)


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 sunlight on ripened grain;

I am the gentle autumn rain.


When you awaken in the morning hush

I am the quick uplifting rush.

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft star that shines at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry.

I am not there, I did not die.