I do not remember why I copied this poem, or where I first read this, but somewhere, somewhen, I did and copied it down...
DO NOT STAND AT MY GRAVE & WEEP (by Mary Elizabeth Frye)
Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am in a thousand minds 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 star shine 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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