![silhouette-1900063_960_720.jpg](https://steemitimages.com/DQmcQuJSCjBXWnY6yashUatfZdrZxewQGPJHx4XFh4s47bP/silhouette-1900063_960_720.jpg)
<b><a href="https://cdn.pixabay.com/photo/2016/12/11/18/59/silhouette-1900063_960_720.jpg">Image Source</a></b>

<b><center>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 circling flight.
I am the soft starshine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry:
I am not there; I did not die.</center></b>


<center><h2>Second One</h2>
<b>Oh goodbye, goodbye to bloom in the white blaze
of moon on the river, goodbye
to creek joining the creek joining the river, the axil, the Y,
goodbye to the Yes of two Ifs in one phrase . . .
Children bear children. We are grown,
and time has thrown us free under the timeless moon.</center></b>