Frances Knox Corey

I am not there. I do not sleep.

I am the thousand winds that blow;

I am the diamond glints on snow;

I am the sunlight and ripened grain;

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning hush,

I am the swift uplifting rush

of the quiet birds in circle flight.

I am the soft star that shines at night.

Do not stand at my grave and cry;

I am not there; I did not die.