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Do not stand by 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 awake in the morning’s hush
I am the swift upflinging rush,
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starlight at night,
Do not stand at my grave and cry
I am not there, I did not die.
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