I do not know who wrote this, but it is beautiful:
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 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.
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
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2 comments:
That is a lovely poem, I haven't heard it in years.
Hope all is well with you.
Judy
It's by Mary Elizabeth Frye, a homemaker. At first no one knew the author; she stepped forward years later. Interestingly, the attribution was disputed by many until Abigail Van Buren researched it and found her claim was true. Yes, that's Dear Abby.I don't know if her column had published the poem or not.
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