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Although not considered a great poet, I particularly like Oscar Wilde's  'Ballad of Reading Gaol' composed while he was incarcerated for homosexuality, but his 'Requiescat' is very moving, considered to be in memory of his dead sister:

Tread lightly, she is near  

  Under the snow,

Speak gently, she can hear

The daisies grow.

All her bright golden hair

Tarnished with rust,

She that was young and  fair     

Fallen to dust.

Lily-like, white as snow,

She hardly knew

She was a woman, so

Sweetly she grew.

Coffin board, heavy stone

Lie on her breast,

I vex my heart alone,

She is at rest.

Peace, Peace she cannot hear

Lyre or sonnet,

All my life's buried here,

Heap earth upon it.