Immortality
CLARE HARNER, Topeka, Kan.
The Gypsy of December 1934 (page 16)


	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.