Do Not Stand
By My Grave

By Clare Harner, 1934

Do not stand
By my grave and weep
I am not there
I do not sleep

I am the thousand winds that blow
I am the diamond glints in snow
I am the sunlight on ripened grain
I am the gentle autumn rain

As you awake with morning’s hush
I am the swift up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight
I am the day transcending night

Do not stand by my grave and cry
I am not there
I did not die