#clare harner

[haveyouheardof70dollars]

Clare Harner but make it Robby and Jack deciding not not to die

[ohsogirlie]

First line and popular title of the bereavement poem "Immortality", written by Clare Harner in 1934.

[rubensmuse]

if tumblr dies you can find me in the thousand winds that blow. or in the diamond glints on snow. in the sunlight on ripened grain. in the gentle autumn rain. when you awaken in morning's hush, find me in the uplifting rush of quiet birds circled in flight, or in the soft stars that shine at night.

do not stand at my blog and cry. i shan't be there, should tumblr die.

[monikamonik]

.•・♡•.✦꙳𓂂・°☆•.

Don't stand at my grave and weep

I'm not there. I don't sleep.

I'm a thousand winds that blow.

I'm the diamond glints on snow.

I'm the sunlight on ripened grain.

I'm the gentle autumn rain.

When you awaken in the morning's hush

I'm the swift uplifting rush

Of quiet birds in circled flight.

I'm the soft stars that shine at night.

Don't stand at my grave and cry;

I'm not there. I didn't die..

- Clare Harner

[zefiko]

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 sun 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 circle 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.

[ombre-ame]

Do not stand

By my grave, and weep.

I am not there,

I do not sleep

I am the thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints in snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning’s hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand

By my grave, and cry

I am not there,

I did not die.

Clare Harner

@ombre-ame

May 29, 2026

#ombre-ame posts#clare harner

[neufer]

Soda core

[tragicc]

Do not stand

By my grave, and weep.

I am not there,

I do not sleep—

I am the thousand winds that blow

I am the diamond glints in snow

I am the sunlight on ripened grain,

I am the gentle, autumn rain.

As you awake with morning’s hush,

I am the swift, up-flinging rush

Of quiet birds in circling flight,

I am the day transcending night.

Do not stand

By my grave, and cry—

I am not there,

I did not die.

— Clare Harner, The Gypsy, December 1934