I was reminded recently of one of my favourites. It's variously quoted and I'll give you the version I know best which maybe isn't the most accurate.
O Westron Wind when wilt thou blow?
The small rain down can rain.
Christ! That my love were in my arms
And I in my bed again.
I love the sudden switch from the beautiful evocation of boredom and grey rainy days to the sudden longing for the lover. I prefer short poems on the whole.