Brett Anton Blake

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep

I am a thousand winds that swiftly blow,
I am the diamond glint on newly fallen snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am soft and gentle autumn rain,
When you wake from sleep,
In the early morning hush,
I am the swift, up lifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight
I am the soft starlight at night

Do not stand at my grave and weep
I am not there, I do not sleep