Caught My eye in a Poem

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 the 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 did not die.

“Do not stand at my grave and weep”

Mary Elizabeth Frye , Circa 1932

 
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