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 on snow I am the sunlight on ripened grain I am the gentleman autumn's rain When you wake in the mornings hush I am the swift uplifting rush, Of quiet birds in circled flight I am the soft stars that shine at night Do not stand at my grave and cry I am not there, I did not die Mary. E. Frye