Do not stand at my grave and weep

By Mary Elizabeth Frye.
An early version, printed by others on postcards:
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 rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush
I am [...]

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Bargain

Your tears seemed like your only gift to me;
My smiles were what I gave you in return:
This bargain, where I lose all vanity,
Was what old bleeding hearts made my soul learn.
Your festering wounds I helped in cleaning;
Though not yet healed, I helped them start to;
All I asked was the share from your feeling,
Which now has [...]

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