By Mary Frye 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 softly falling snow. I am the gentle showers of rain, I am the fields of ripening grain. I am in the morning hush, I am in […]

Because I could not stop for Death, He kindly stopped for me; The carriage held but just ourselves And Immortality.We slowly drove, he knew no haste, And I had put away My labor, and my leisure too, For his civility.We passed the school, where children strove At recess, in the ring; We passed the fields […]