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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 1,000 winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow.


I am the sun on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.


When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush.


Of quiet birds in circled light,
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.


Anon, 20th century