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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 awaken in the morning's 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.

Anonymous