I did not die

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 sunlight on ripened grain.
I am gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the mornings hush,
I am the swift 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.


Mary Frye 1932