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 diamond glints on snow, I am the sun 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 circling flight. I am the soft star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there; I did not die.
Word Count- 100
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