Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there - I do not sleep. I am the thousand winds that blow, I am the diamond glints in snow, I am the sunlight on ripened grain, I am the gentle autumn rain. As you awake with morning's hush I am the swift-up-flinging rush Of quiet birds in circling flight. Do not stand at my grave and cry, I am not there - I did not die.