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 the sun on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's 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.