Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

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 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.

by Mary Elizabeth Frye

Comments (325)

I love this sort of stuff, and write poems similar to this myself. I don't know, it still feels kind of like something that Whitman might have discarded to me.
Hindi/Urdu and Punjabi translations of this poem can be read at my poetry page at Poemhunter.
I will be reading this verse at my fathers passing. I stumbled across it when buying a sympathy card for a friend some years back and it still remains my favourite. It has bought so much comfort to many of my friends who I have sent it to. Even the non religious ones expressed their feelings to it sometimes I add an extra few lines depending on the persons favourite pass time or Hobby.
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