Submitted By: Lita Pretty

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's gift of snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain
when you awaken in the morning's hush
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.

Somewhere beyond
the night,
another day has
just begun,
For death is but
to greet the dawn,
and not the
Setting Sun.

Author: Mary Elizabeth Fry
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