"Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there I do not sleep I am a thousand winds that flow I am the sunlight on my own grave I am a gentle autumn rain I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet birds in circled flight Do not stand at my grave and cry Do not stand at my grave and cry Do not stand at my grave and cry I am not there I did not die (Spoken) Man as yet is half grown Even his flower stem has not appeared yet He