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 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.
Anon.
No comments:
Post a Comment