I shall not stand at your grave and weep;
You are never there, nor are asleep.
I’m with the thousand winds that blow,
I’ve seen diamond glints on snow,
I’ve wondered about the sun on ripened grain,
I enjoyed the gentle autumn rain.
Every time I awaken in the morning’s hush
I experience the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I gaze at the soft star-shine at night.
I shall not stand at your grave and cry,
Because you are not there, you did not die.
‘Til we meet again, friend!