I Am Not There

7 August 2008

    by Mary Elizabeth 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 on ripened grain.

I am the gentle Autumn rain.



When you awake in the morning hush,

I am the swift, uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight.

I am the soft starlight at night.



Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there. I did not die.

0 spoke to me:

 
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