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 of snow,
I am the sunshine 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 Frye
2 comments:
Thanks for your Easter posting - lovely.
Mary Frye wrote this piece in 1932 for a visiting friend, whose mother had died suddenly.
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