I do not remember why I copied this poem, or where I first read this, but somewhere, somewhen, I did and copied it down...

DO NOT STAND AT MY GRAVE & WEEP (by Mary Elizabeth Frye)

Do not stand at my grave and weep,

I am not there.  I do not sleep.

 

I am in a thousand minds that blow,

I am the softly falling snow.

I am the gentle showers of rain,

I am the fields of ripening grain.

 

I am in the morning hush,

I am in the graceful rush

Of beautiful birds in circling flight,

I am the star shine of the night.

 

I am in the flowers that bloom,

I am in a quiet room.

I am in the birds that sing,

I am in each lovely thing.

 

Do not stand at my grave and cry,

I am not there.  I do not die.