Do not stand at my grave and weep
I’m not there, I do not sleep

I am a thousand winds that blow
I am a diamond glint on snow
I am the sunshine on ripened grain
I am the gentle August rain

And when you awaken to that morning hush
I am that swift, enlightening 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’m not there, I did not die