• Lady Lazarus by Sylvia Plath

"Dying Is an art, like everything else, I do it exceptionally well.

I do it so it feels like hell. I do it so it feels real. I guess you could say I've a call."

That is kind of an obvious Sylvia Plath poem, so let's pick another not so well-known.

• The Munich Mannequins by Sylvia Plath

"O the domesticity of these windows, The baby lace, the green-leaved confectionery,

The thick Germans slumbering in their bottomless Stolz. And the black phones on hooks

Glittering Glittering and digesting

Voicelessness. The snow has no voice."

• Funeral Blues by W.H. Auden

Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone, Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone, Silence the pianos and with muffled drum Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead Scribbling on the sky the message He is Dead. Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves, Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

He was my North, my South, my East and West, My working week and my Sunday rest, My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song; I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

The stars are not wanted now; put out every one, Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun, Pour away the ocean and sweep up the woods; For nothing now can ever come to any good.