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 ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the uplifting rush
Of quiet birds’ encircled 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.