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 wake in the morning 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.
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