Poems about caring for teachers, please, 3Q.

Zhuo Yu, your voice is the most beautiful, your face is the closest, your heart is the warmest, and your sky is the widest! Your eyes are full of eager expectations; Your wrinkles record every success we have; Your heart is touched by true love ... Facing smiling faces, you teach people to give love tirelessly ... Teachers are like gardeners, caring for budding flowers, and teachers are like candles, igniting themselves and illuminating students. Every time I see her classmates' homework neatly written, her face is full of smiles. Day after day, year after year, the old man's footprints have been printed on her eyes. Every day the teacher goes to bed at the latest and gets up at the earliest! If there is no teacher to feed us diligently, where can we get talents from generation to generation? ..... Ah, teacher, how great you are! Whenever I make a mistake, I see your tolerant eyes! Teacher, you have worked hard! = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Poems for the teacher send you a bunch of flowers to show our respect for you; Send you a moving song, which brings you a little sweetness. Teacher-you have worked hard, you have taken us through the storm, you have nurtured us with the nutrition of knowledge, but you have never asked for anything in return, and you have told us not to give up easily when encountering difficulties. Since then, our lives have been full of joy at any time. There are many fewer troubles. It adds a fortitude. It is also a harvest autumn, and you still hold on to the colorful brush in your hand. It depicts a beautiful blueprint and nourishes the peaches and plums of the motherland. You are still preparing lessons carefully in the middle of the night, and you are still reminiscing about the joy of our success in your sleep. We are flowers in full bloom in spring, and you have played a wonderful melody for us. You are a hard gardener, and we will remember your earnest words. Take a good life. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Poems dedicated to teachers-teacher's eyes, like the moon at night, we are stars, twinkling in the teacher's smile. Teachers' eyes are like an endless ocean. We are small fish, swimming around happily in the teacher's arms. The teacher's eyes are like the blue sky. We are a white cloud. Under her gaze, freedom floats around, and the teacher's eyes are like a mirror. Can light up our hearts. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = Poets dedicated to teachers are like gardeners, with peaches and plums all over the world; Teachers are like red candles, burning themselves to illuminate us; Teachers are like bees, hardworking and brave; Teachers are like mothers, beautiful and kind; A teacher is like a book, giving us a lot of knowledge. Happy Teachers' Day to my dear teacher. ========================================= /news/Print.asp? Articleid = 48 = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = A poem dedicated to the teacher sends you a bunch of flowers to show our respect for you; Send you a moving song, which brings you a little sweetness. Teacher-you have worked hard, you have taken us through the storm, you have nurtured us with the nutrition of knowledge, but you have never asked for anything in return, and you have told us not to give up easily when encountering difficulties. Since then, our lives have been full of joy at any time. There are many fewer troubles. It adds a fortitude. It is also a harvest autumn, and you still hold on to the colorful brush in your hand. It depicts a beautiful blueprint and nourishes the peaches and plums of the motherland. You are still preparing lessons carefully in the middle of the night, and you are still reminiscing about the joy of our success in your sleep. We are flowers in full bloom in spring, and you have played a wonderful melody for us. You are a hard gardener, and we will remember your earnest words. Take a good life. = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = September —— The poem dedicated to Teachers' Day is fruity in September, and it is yellow in September, but I still smell the fragrance of peaches and plums in March and the cool autumn in September. The fruits of September give us maturity and yearning for autumn. In this golden autumn season, we have the happiness that peaches and plums make their own way without saying anything. Children, I hope that your eyes will shine with the light of hope, and you won't wander deeply at the fork of life. I hope that my soul will light the beacon of your heart and grasp the correct course for you in the dark sea. I wish, with my silent and persistent heart, to conjure up thousands of possible paths for you on the three-foot platform. I wish, with the passion of your youthful blood, to live and learn, to grow together and to be in full bloom all your life! I know that this festival embodies China people's respect and hope for the teacher's way for thousands of years. What chalk and branch Gaga draw is the curve of life. Homework, accumulated layer by layer, is an eager expectation. I am no longer a candlelight, because the faint candlelight is not enough to illuminate your direction; I won't be a silkworm, because it's not a dream of a free soul to bind myself. I am the sun, burning with generate, bringing you radiant heat; As the leading wild goose, I spread my wings and soar with you in the clear sky of Wan Li. Children, I want you to look to a wider and boundless world. Children, I am just a shining sunshine in September. On your growing journey, I, we, for the future of the nation and for the hope of the nation, we will burn brighter than the day, and also ignite your pile of warm kindling! In September, we were trekking between Japan and China. We gave everything and gained everything. It was your diligence and love, children, that filled our pockets. We were full of passion, because like you, we were all free masters of life. The sails are still sailing in September, children, I want you to say loudly, "OK, I'm coming. Follow you-my captain-"= = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = = A poem dedicated to Teachers' Day: Fruity September, Chrysanthemum and Yellow September. We remember who is still sowing hope for us in September. In September, the poets wrote immortal poems. We have never forgotten who silently made our wedding clothes. In September, we dare not forget who taught us our thoughts. In September, we dare not forget who made the world have love and sound of books. In September, we dare not forget who built the temple of knowledge with hard work. In September, we dare not forget who guided us in confusion. In September, we guarded the harvest of wheat waves. Still growing up in textbooks in September, we won't forget the admiration that we remember with emotion. There is something called sacredness, which means that the stars that come at dawn in the horizon silently shine on the countless flashes of light that come first and then go to the dream together. There is something called eternity, which is the rock that watches the tide at the seaside. In the wind and rain, life is gradually exhausted and it becomes a totem worshipped by countless pilgrims. There is something called sincerity. The unadorned white cloud bears too many eager eyes of birds who want to fly with their own fatigue. There is something called love, simplicity, dedication or farewell praise, because she is so beautiful, yes, some people write a great poem with themselves.