• Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

    Do not stand at my grave and weep,
    I am not there, I do not sleep.
    I am in 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 starshine of the night.
    I am in the flowers that bloom,
    I am in a quiet room.

    I am the birds that sing,
    I am in each lovely thing.
    Do not stand at my grave and cry,
    I am not there. I do not die.

    Mary Frye, 1932

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