Mary Frye enjoyed writing poetry. She wasn't interested in publishing her poems, she just wrote them for her own enjoyment. Occasionally she would pass a poem on to a friend who could use a lift. "I don't figure I have any great talent," the Baltimore, Maryland homemaker said. But many people would disagree. One of her poems, especially, has given hope and comfort to people who mourn for over 50 years.
When a friend of hers lost someone close, Mary Frye jotted down a poem, which seemed to spring from her heart, and gave it to the grieving woman. That poem was later passed on to others, who, in turn, passed it on, until it became an American classic. "If it helps one person through a hard time, I am amply paid," said the poet, who has received no remuneration for her uncopyrighted work. It has been used in countless funeral services, printed in innumerable memorial folders, translated and used in foreign lands and even incorporated into television drama.
Here is her original text, which has moved so many for so long:
"Do not stand at my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am in 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 the graceful rush
Of beautiful birds in circling flight,
I am the starshine of the night.
I am in the flowers that bloom,
I am in a quiet room,
I am the birds that sing,
I am in each lovely thing.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there. I do not die.
"People have the illusion that all over the world, all the time, all kinds of fantastic things are happening. When in fact, over most of the world, most of the time, nothing is happening."