I like this one, by Henry Goddard Leach, because it condends the typical pastoral love scenario. I've got way too many friends who sigh and fawn over either their boyfriend, or crush. To be frank, I'm getting sick of it. Everytime they start off like that, I have this overwhelming urge to pour a glass of ice water over their heads. So, I find this poem very refreshing. It's from the anthology of H.G.L.'s poetry, The Fire's Center, The Fine Editions Press, New York.
Give me no Venus with her burning lips
Lying, rose-pillowed, draw by fluttering dove,
With languid arms and ever-searching eye,
Singing and sighing all the day for love.
Give me Diana of the crested moon,Back to poetry
Early ahunt across the frosty morn,
Perfect of limb and swift and chaste and strong,
Filling the wood with her triumphant horn!
-Henry Goddard Leach