To Pinsel
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 mornings hush
I am the swift upflinging
of quiet birds in circling 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 !
