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.)