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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 awake 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.
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Do not stand at my grave and weep
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 awake 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.
Mary Elizabeth Frye
1905 - 2004/Female/American