i have not

[jackyp]

looking for a poem something like i have not left you it is not the the christina rosseti one but along simalar lines

[shaneystar2]

Is this the one ?
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.

[jackyp]

yes that its thankyou

[funkymoped]

thats very sad, but very nice sentiment.

love the line "i am the diamond glints on snow"

[agnabeya]

http://usinfo.state.gov/usa/infousa/facts/democrac/23.ht m

If sad (but moving) prose is your thing -

read the Sullivan Ballou letter -
it makes me sniffle every time I read it........

[agnabeya]

Shaneystar -
a beautiful poem - who wrote it?

[shaneystar2]

Hard to say .....some info.. ..but I would go along with Mary Elizabeth Fry.

Written at least 50 years ago, this poem has been attributed at different times to J.T. Wiggins (an English emigre to America), two Americans: Mary E. Fry and Marianne Reinhardt, and more recently to Stephen Cummins, a British soldier killed in Northern Ireland who left a copy for his relatives. Others claim it is a Navajo burial prayer.
The following was taken from The London Magazine December / January 2005:
"Mary Elizabeth Frye nee Clark was born in Dayton, Ohio, on November 13th 1905. She dies on September 15th 2004. Mary Frye, who was living in Baltimore at the time, wrote the poem in 1932. She had never written any poetry, but the plight of a German Jewish girl, Margaret Schwarzkopf,who was staying with her and her husband, inspired the poem. She wrote it down on a brown paper shopping bag.
Margaret Schwarzkopf had been worrying about her mother, who was ill in Germany. The rise of Anti-Semitism had made it unwise for her to join her mother. When her mother died, she told Mary Frye she had not had the chance to stand by her mother's grave and weep.
Mary Frye circulated the poem privately. Because she never published or copyrighted it, there is no definitive version. She wrote other poems, but this, her first, endured. Her obituary in The Times made it clear that she was the undisputed author this famous poem, which has been recited at funerals and on other appropriate occasions around the world for seventy years. A 1996 Bookworm poll named it the Nation's Favourite Poem.

[horselady]

shaneystar-I love that poem

agnabeya-that letter nearly finished me off, particularly as my son-in-law is with the forces in Iraq in that useless, rotten "war".

[ali_alic]

This poem always makes me weep, its by Edna St Vincent Millay

Time does not bring relief; you all have lied
Who told me time would ease me of my pain!
I miss him in the weeping of the rain;
I want him at the shrinking of the tide;
The old snows melt from every mountain-side,
And last year's leaves are smoke in every lane;
But last year's bitter loving must remain
Heaped on my heart, and my old thoughts abide

There are a hundred places where I fear
To go,�so with his memory they brim
And entering with relief some quiet place
Where never fell his foot or shone his face
I say, "There is no memory of him here!"
And so stand stricken, so remembering him!

[horselady]

I read this today which is very thought provoking if anyone cares for elderly parents.

They will disappear, those parents who are taking so long to make way for you. That mother whose old age imposes duties on you which you find inconvenient; they will disappear, those careful watchers over your childhood, those lovely protectors of your adolescence; they will disappear, and you will search in vain for better friends; they will disappear and as soon as they are no longer here, they will strike you in a new light because time which makes older those who are alive, makes them seem younger as soon as death has taken them away.