Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

   Do not stand
      By my grave, and weep,
   I am not there,
      I do not sleep—
I am the thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints in snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle, autumn rain.
As you awake with morning's hush,
I am the swift, up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the day transcending night.
   Do not stand
      By my grave, and cry—
   I am not there,
      I did not die.