>[!quote] Do not stand by my grave and weep
>      Do not stand
>          By my grave, and weep.
>      I am not there,
>          I do not sleep—
>
> I am the thousand winds that blow
> I am the diamond glints in snow
> I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
> I am the gentle, autumn rain.
>
> As you awake with morning’s hush,
> I am the swift, up-flinging rush
> Of quiet birds in circling flight,
> I am the day transcending night.
>
>      Do not stand
>          By my grave, and cry—
>      I am not there,
>          I did not die.
>
<small>- [[Clare Harner]], The Gypsy, December 1934</small>