Obituary of Evelyn O'Neill

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’s gift of snow I am the sunlight on ripened grain I am the autumn’s gentle rain When you awaken 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.