Do not stand at my grave, and weep
Possibly by Mary Elizabeth Fry
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 glint on snow
I am the sunlight on unripened grain
i am the gentle Autumn rain
When you awaken in the morning hush, I am the quiet uplifting rush of quiet birds in circle flight
I am the soft stars that shine that night
Do not stand at my grave, and cry
I am not there, I did not die