Who knows the poems about "Willow", the more the better.

Where there is a well, you can sing Liu Ci.

Yang Liuan Xiaofeng Canyue

In the morning, flowers are spent on the tip, and the warbler wears a willow belt, but she still lies on the musk.

Willow painting bridge, wind curtain and green curtain, there are hundreds of thousands of homes.

Suddenly I saw the willow color on the head of a stranger and regretted teaching my husband to find a seal.

There are flowers everywhere in the spring city, and the cold food is easterly and willows are oblique.

Ruthlessness is a willow in Taicheng, but it is still a smoke cage.

Why should a strong brother complain about willow? The spring breeze does not pass through Yumen Pass.

Weicheng is a city of light dust and rain, and the guest house is green and willow.

There are few willows blowing on the branches, but there are many herbs in the sea.

The willow piles up smoke, but the curtain is not heavy.

Willow shade is straight, smoke is bright and blue.

Well, there's no way, Jinghe village

Weak willow silk, light yellow evenly covered with duck cries.

Jasper trees are tall, and thousands of strands of green silk tapestries hang down.

Weicheng is a city of light dust and rain, and the guest house is green and willow.

Lingering under the window, dense willows in front of the hall

Fengqi planted a hundred peaches and sent them to Huanhuaxi before the spring.

When the moon rises to the top of the willow tree

Contact after sunset

Sui anonymous poems:

Willow green hangs down to the ground, and flowers are long and sultry.

The wicker broke and the flowers flew away. I wonder if pedestrians will come back.

Yesterday, I left, and the willows were reluctant.

It rained when I thought of it today ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Weak willow silk, light yellow evenly covered with duck cries.

The golden willow by the river is the bride at sunset.

Yu Di's dark flying sound scattered into the spring breeze in Los Angeles.

In this nocturne, the willow is broken, and no one can afford to be homesick.

Jasper dressed up as a tree with ten thousand green silk threads hanging down. I don't know who to cut it for, but the spring breeze in February is like scissors.