Speaking as a poet... yeah, it's something else I've had in print... I had/have a number of writers whose way with words has profoundly delighted me while simultaneously leaving me in a state of deep despair over my own fumbling. Some of them were not very nice people, such as Pound, but the others include Auden, MacNeice and Thomas. Heaney was a great favourite of mine, and, as RJ suggests, it was his precision and economy that struck me dumb.
By all accounts, he was a Good Chap, as well. A loss to us all.