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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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