Do no stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds what blow,
I am a diamond glint on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle Autumn rain.

When you awake in the morning light,
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starshine at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there . . . I did not die.

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