| 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 upon the snow. I am the sunlight on ripened grain and I am the gentle autumn rain. When you awaken in the morning hush, I am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight. I am the soft star that shines at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there, I did not die. |
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