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 upon the snow,
I am the sunlight 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 star that shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there; I did not die.