Tuesday, November 29, 2005

Do not stand at my grave and weep, by Mary Frye (1932)

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 glint on
snow.
I am the sun ripened grain. I am the soothing gentle
rain.
When you awake in morning hush, I am the swift uplifting
rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the stars that shine at
night.
DO not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there. I did not
die.