Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousands winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle autums rain.
When you awakened in the mornings hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight.
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.
