I have a bias in favor of short poems. To borrow a snark on another topic from Jane Austen: they are perfect in that they are too brief.
This ancient Chinese poem answers the question: What to do on a spring day?
It has been described as "the best translation (Waley's) of the best poem in the world" by R.H. Blyth in Zen in English Literature and Oriental Classics.
Hyperbole? Perhaps.
Swiftly the years, beyond recall,
Solemn the stillness of this fair morning.
I will clothe myself in spring-clothing,
And visit the slopes of the Eastern Hill.
By the mountain stream a mist hovers,
Hovers a moment, then scatters.
There comes a wind blowing from the south
That brushes the fields of new corn*.
----Tao Yuanming (365 - 427)
The term "corn" is used here with its older meaning referring to any grain crop rather than with its current usage as referring to a grain exclusive to the New World.