Immortality

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

I am the thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints in snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle, autumn rain.
As you awake with morning's hush,
I am the swift, up-flinging rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand by my grave and cry,
I am not there, I did not die.

- Clare Harner, 1934 -