Do not stand at my grave and weep Words by Mary Frye

Do not stand at my grave and weep

I am not there, I do not sleep

I am in a thousand winds 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 the each lovely thing Do not stand at my grave and cry

I am not there I do not die