Do not stand at my
grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand winds
that blow,
I am the softly falling snow.
I am the gentle showers of
rain,
I am the fields of ripening grain.
I am in the morning hush,
I am
in the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the
starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet
room.
I am in the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not
stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.
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An
earlier version of the poem appears below:
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 glint on snow.
I am the sun on ripened grain.
I am the gentle
Autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning hush,
I am the
swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft
starlight at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not
there. I did not die.