In this creative and unexpectedly sensitive rendition of Mary Elizabeth Frye’s 1932 poem, Tom Read and his band play instruments apparently made from cardboard, string and brown paper. Set on a rooftop – probably near their musical home-base of Hong Kong, the one, then three then five musicians perform against a backdrop of cut-out and coloured-in weather symbols: clouds, sun and snowflakes. The video seems to have been shot in one take, and the final sequence shows how it was done. Performers, recorders and extras are shown running around the rooftop to exchange props and costumes and get into place for the next sequence. Reacting to the graphic representation of the lyrics, the band members play and sing their way through the poem:
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 star-shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry,
I am not there; I did not die.
Mary Frye wrote the poem in response to the plight of a young German Jewish woman, Margaret Schwarzkopf, who was staying with her in Boston. Margaret had been warned not to return home to her seriously ill mother because of increasing anti-Jewish activity. When her mother died, the heartbroken young woman told Frye that she never had the chance to “stand by my mother’s grave and shed a tear”. Never having written poetry before, she wrote it down on a brown paper shopping bag. Because circulated in privately – and anonymously and never published or copyrighted it, there is no definitive version, though it has been recited at funerals around the world for eighty years.
The poem was introduced in Britain when it was read on BBC radio in 1995 by the father of his soldier son killed by a bomb in Northern Ireland. The authorship of the poem was established a few years later after an investigation by journalist Abigail Van Buren. Mary Frye was finally acknowledged as its writer in her 2004 Times obituary.