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A THOUSAND WINDS
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 glints on snow, I am the sunlight on ripened grain; I am the gentle autumn's rain. When you awake in the morning bush, I am the swift uplifting rush Of quiet in circled flight. I am the soft star that shines at night. Do not stand at my grave and cry. I am not there; I did not die. |
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