HER LAST POEM:
When I am dead, remember this for me:
Furious morning birdsong, wind in a tree,
A storm coming and a glass of old wine,
The grace of the color green, the clear-eyed fine
Smile of a girl, the red leaves of September.
Remember, love, when I will not remember,
The cry of the fox, the delicacy of the dove,
And never me. Remember what I love.
(See also the French and English Wikipedia entries.)