do not stand at my grave and weep

I have been carrying a poem with me these past few weeks. It's a favourite of many, I assume, and it is a favourite of mine. There are a couple different versions of this poem and different claims of authorship have been made, though it is now generally attributed to Mary Elizabeth Frye.

Do Not Stand at My Grave and Weep

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 glint on snow,

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle autumn rain.

When you awake in the morning's 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.