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 awake in the
morning thrush,
I am the soft-uplifting rush.
Of quiet soft birds in circling flight,
I am the soft start that
shines at night.
Do not stand at my grave and
Cry,
I am not there,
I did not die!