do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not here, I do not sleep
I am the thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glint on these snow
I am the sunlight-ripened grain,
I am the gentle morning rain

And when you wake in the morning’s hush,
I am the sweet uplifting rush
of quiet birds in circled flight.

I am the soft stars that shine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.