Do Not Stand At My Grave and Weep

by Mary E. Frye

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 softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of rain.
I am the fields of ripening grain.

I am in the morning hush.
I am in the graceful rush
of beautiful birds in circling flight.
I am the star shine of the night.

I am in the flowers that bloom;
I am in a quiet room.
I am in the birds that sing;
I am in each lovely thing.

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