What beautiful poems were there in ancient times?

First, elegant brushwork, backyard dust. Then the sky is cloudy, not wandering. Three thousand miles of rivers and mountains have also been Penglai for forty years. Moss is stained with frost, and the mirror is full of color.

Second, he and I were drunk, and Peach Blossom flew to Xi and secretly scribbled on your face.

Third, how to let you meet me at my most beautiful moment. To this end, I begged the Buddha for 500 years and asked him to let us have a dusty relationship. -Xi Murong's A Flowering Tree

Fourth, who finally made the string break, the flowers fell on the shoulders, and the trance was blurred.

Fifth, let him be clear and muddy in everything and smile at you.

Six, a thousand years of waiting, but only one sentence: my love has long gone.

Seven, Dan Qing Juan, iron fan white by day, looking at the world of mortals, flowers like bamboo shoots, nights like me.

Eight, I miss you like a candle, frying my heart and holding tears. -Chen's Return of the King

Nine, I am on the other side of the river, the watchman has returned, and there is no hope of returning.

Ten, an inch of acacia, there is no arrangement in the world. -Li Guan's "Dead Hua Lian"

Eleven, falling red is not a heartless thing, turning into spring mud is more protective of flowers. -Gong Zizhen's "Jihai Miscellaneous Work"

After parting, remember to meet each other and dream of being with you several times. -Yan's "Partridge Sky Trilogy One" Jiangnan finally enveloped the world with a misty rain. After the glory of China, it was just a scene, and the mountains and rivers were silent forever.

Thirteen, my eyes are like mountains, and lang is like a stone Buddha. -Zhu Yizun's "Best of Yuanyang Lake"

Fourteen, who should be robbed by whom, who becomes obsessed.

Fifteen, swing sleeves and play the piano, seven strings are exquisite, reeds are in the boat, and the rain is hazy.

Sixteen, finally covered the world for Jiangnan misty rain. After the glory of China, it was just a scene, and the mountains and rivers were silent forever.

Seventeen, people feel sentimental and thin, but now they are not sentimental. -Nalanxingde's "Spread the Happy Sand"

Remember that your heart is like the West River, which flows eastward day and night. -Yu's Sorrow and Hope in Jiangling

Nineteen, tearful eyes ask flowers silently, and red flies over the swing. -Ouyang Xiu's Two Liang Zhu Poems

Looking back, standing on the bridge and looking up, I only saw peach blossoms flying all over the sky.

Twenty-one, once there was a tall building, singing songs at night and dancing sleeves on it.