Good rain knows the season, when spring comes. (Du Fu's "Delighting in Rain on a Spring Night")
I don't know who cut the thin leaves, but the spring breeze in February is like scissors. (He Zhangzhi's Liu Yong)
But this spring spring, after all, can't be caged. Look, there is a pink apricot sticking out of the wall. (Ye Shaoweng's "Garden without Value")
Summer in the poem:
Lotus leaves will not turn green the next day, and lotus flowers are particularly bright red in the sun. (Yang Wanli, "Chu Xiao Jingci Temple sends Lin Zifang")
Mid-autumn festival in poetry;
Stop and sit in the maple forest late, and the frost leaves are red in February flowers. (Du Mu's "Mountain Walk")
The lake and the moon set each other off, and there is no wind mirror on the pool surface. (Liu Yuxi's "Looking at Dongting")
Winter in poetry:
I knew from a distance that it wasn't snow, because there was a smell coming. (Wang Anshi's Plum Blossom)
A boat on the river, a fisherman wearing his webworm moth; Fishing alone is not afraid of snow and ice. (Liu Zongyuan's "Jiang Xue")
Like a bird, she still flapped her wings and felt sorry for herself, leaving Beijing for more than ten years. (Gao Shi "Don't be big")
Suddenly, like a night wind blowing, like a pear tree in blossom. (Cen Can's "Farewell to Tian Shuji, Wu Guixiang, Snow Song")
Miss my hometown:
I looked up at the moon and looked down, feeling nostalgic. (Li Bai's Silent Night Thinking)
Jiang Nanan spring breeze is green, when will the bright moon shine on me? (Wang Anshi's "Dengguazhou")
Friends, if my friends in Luoyang invite me; Just say I'm still Bing Xin Okho, and stick to my faith! (Wang Changling "Breaking up with Xin Jian at Furong Inn")
When I think of my brothers' bodies climbing high, I will feel a little regret for not being able to reach me. (Wang Wei's "I miss my Shandong brother on vacation in the mountains")
Poems praising plants:
The long grass is so lush that the withered grass will thicken the color of the grass every autumn and winter. Wildfire can't burn it out, but the spring breeze can revive it. (Bai Juyi's Farewell to Ancient Grass)
I knew from a distance that it wasn't snow, because there was a smell coming. (Wang Anshi's Plum Blossom)