Greatest Poets of all Time?

They will tell you these are the greatest poets. It becomes you, then, to tell if they are correct.
Greatest poet of all time #1 is William Shakespeare. We shall share a sample of his poetry, and you are to determine if it is the best, or if he should be moved down the list.

 
Sonnet 18
Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?
Thou art more lovely and more temperate.
Rough winds do shake the darling buds of May,
And summer’s lease hath all too short a date.
Sometime too hot the eye of heaven shines,
And often is his gold complexion dimmed;
And every fair from fair sometime declines,
By chance, or nature’s changing course, untrimmed;
But thy eternal summer shall not fade,
Nor lose possession of that fair thou ow’st,
Nor shall death brag thou wand'rest in his shade,
When in eternal lines to Time thou grow'st.
So long as men can breathe, or eyes can see,
So long lives this, and this gives life to thee.

I find this Shakespeare not a great poet at all. What do you think? If it were I making the list of the top 10, I would leave him off the list, entirely.

On the list presented by the authorities, Edgar Allan Poe checks in at #2.

The Raven
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
‘’Tis some visitor,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.’

Annabel Lee
And this was the reason that, long ago,
   In this kingdom by the sea,
A wind blew out of a cloud, chilling
   My beautiful Annabel Lee;
So that her highborn kinsmen came
   And bore her away from me,
To shut her up in a sepulchre
   In this kingdom by the sea.

This is an improvement upon Shakespeare. Poe is one of the better poets on this listing.

This next one, you have never heard of -- and understandably so. Nevertheless, someone called Saadi checks in at #3. 

Manner of Kings Story 05
I may so act as not to hurt the feelings of anyone
But what can I do to an envious man dissatisfied with himself?
Die, O envious man, for this is a malady,
Deliverance from which can be obtained only by death.
Unfortunate men sometimes ardently desire
The decline of prosperous men in wealth and dignity.
If in daytime, bat-eyed persons do not see
Is it the fault of the fountain of light, the sun?
Thou justly wishest that a thousand such eyes
Should be blind rather than the sun dark.

Next up is an actually great poet. William Woodsworth is listed as the #4 best poet in mortal history.

Ode: Intimations of Immortality
Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting:
that rises with us, our life’s star,
Hath had The soul  elsewhere its setting,
And cometh from afar;
Not in entire forgetfulness,
And not in utter nakedness,
But trailing clouds of glory do we come
From God, who is our home.

The Lucy Poems

Strange fits of passion have I known:

And I will dare to tell,
But in the lover's ear alone,
What once to me befell.
When she I loved look'd every day
Fresh as a rose in June,
I to her cottage bent my way,
Beneath an evening moon.

Francesco Petrarca is #5. He's not too bad, but he simply is not worthy of being called one of the ten greatest poets. 

Crap otherness

All the octopi untie my limbs

time to unite with time they say

Meanwhile mesmerized on the dance floor

I’m drooling with my jar of pickled fruits

in shadows and in bliss

as if the world could briefly satisfy my wish.

Charles Baudelaire is #6. Do you think he should be on this list?

Get Drunk

And if you sometimes happen to wake up

on the porches of a palace,

in the green grass of a ditch,

in the dismal loneliness of your own room,

your drunkenness gone or disappearing,

ask the wind,

the wave,

the star, 

the bird,

the clock,

ask everything that flees,

everything that groans

or rolls

or sings,

Everything that speaks

Johann wolfgang von goethe rings in at #7. Do you enjoy his poetry?

The Dance of Death

The warder looks down at the mid hour of night,

On the tombs that lie scatter'd below:

The moon fills the place with her silvery light,

And the churchyard like day seems to glow.

When see! first one grave, then another opes wide,

And women and men stepping forth are descried,

In cerements snow-white and trailing.

There are other lists suggesting who the top poets are. Clearly, I did not find a good listing.

I would not place a one of these poets on my personal list of top poets. And you?