Do not stand at my grave and weep

by Mary Elizabeth Frye

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 dimond glinds 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 do not die.

to mourn for what has passed away from our lives: a teacher, naiveness, and fantasy;

to stay for what is still accompanying us: love, wisdom and courage.