Do not stand at my grave and
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousands winds that blow;
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle autumn's rain.
When you awaken in the morning hush,
I am the swift up lifting rush,
of quite birds in circled flight.
I am the soft star that shines art hight.
Do not stand at my grave and cry.
I am not there; I did not die.
|U.S. ARMY 2nd ARMORED
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