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 the snow.
I am the sunlit ripened grain;
I am the gentle autumns’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds
in circled flight.
I am the soft star shine at night. ...
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there; I did not die.
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on the snow.
I am the sunlit ripened grain;
I am the gentle autumns’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds
in circled flight.
I am the soft star shine at night. ...
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there; I did not die.
(UnKnown)
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