Joseph Wayde Norton

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.