Elegy
Do not stand on my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamonds glint on snow.
I am the sunlight's ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the mourning'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 on my grave and cry,
I am no there, I did not die.