Mary Elizabeth Frye

(13 November, 1905 - 15 September 2004 / Dayton, Ohio)

Comments about Mary Elizabeth Frye

  • Naomi Fleck (12/10/2018 2:38:00 PM)

    wow, this poem is really interesting

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  • valentin savin (11/10/2018 2:15:00 AM)

    Such a great and poignant poem. It's only the words but probably not what she really thought. In my mind she just wanted to console the mourners. Knowing that time can soothe.

  • Nidhi Sood (9/13/2018 11:22:00 AM)

    Could anyone please tell me how to add a poem to my favourites

  • Tuftyaurelius (9/9/2018 7:32:00 PM)

    Of course she’s right but...I believe in the afterlife and the spiriiual world!
    I still weep at my dead son’s gravestone.
    Cemeteries, gravestones, monuments, memorials, cenotaphs for the LIVING BEREAVED? Do we now carry virtual graves in our heads? 🤔

  • Tuftyaurelius (9/9/2018 7:31:00 PM)

    Of course she’s right but...I believe in the afterlife and the spiriiual world!
    I still weep at my dead son’s gravestone.
    Cemeteries, gravestones, monuments, memorials, cenotaphs for the LIVING BEREAVED? Do we now carry virtual graves in our heads? 🤔

  • hhhhheeeelllnn (9/5/2018 7:34:00 PM)

    do you have other poems not just: do not stand at my grave and weep

  • Sandrabeck55@att.net (6/21/2018 4:22:00 AM)

    Does this work

  • Kalpana Dwivedi (6/13/2018 3:49:00 AM)

    Really an amazing feeling. My deepest thanks to this amazing poet.

  • Mohammedsuhail (6/9/2018 4:55:00 AM)

    I need the summary of the poem in london town

  • M Montgomery (6/2/2018 5:39:00 PM)

    there are more than a few sites that still attribute this as a Hopi poem. It is not. See Wikipedia under her name. You can also tell by the way it's written compared to other Hopi poems.

Best Poem of Mary Elizabeth Frye

Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep

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 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.

Read the full of Do Not Stand At My Grave And Weep
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