Do Not Stand At my Grave And Weep Do not stand at my grave and weep, I am not there, I did 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 gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning's 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 Elizabeth Frye