Poetry that can be quoted in writing

1. Who can provide some ancient poems suitable for junior high school composition? Digital poetry has one or two miles, and Yancun has four or five miles. There are 67 pavilions with 90 flowers in all colors. I don't know the details. I sing wild goose, robin king, wild goose, wild goose, Quxiang, white hair floating green water, red palm dialing clear waves. I sang the willow, and he sang Zhang's jasper as the height of the tree, and ten thousand pieces of tapestries were hung with green silk. The spring breeze in February is like scissors. In the Heron Pavilion, Wang Zhihuan, the mountains cover the day and the sea drains the golden river, but you have broadened your horizons by 300 miles, going up a storey still higher, Xiao Chun and Meng Haoran. I woke up easily in this spring morning, and birds were singing everywhere. How much do you know about the sound of wind and rain at night? If you want to drink pipa, you should urge it immediately. How many people fought in ancient times? The northern dynasty folk song "Chile Song", at the foot of Yinshan Mountain. The sky is like a dome, and the cage covers all fields. The sky is grey, the wild is boundless, and the wind blows the grass and the cattle and sheep are low. Wang Changling, Furong Inn and Xin Jian parted, entered Wu on a cold rainy night, Luoyang relatives and friends asked each other, and there was ice in the jade pot. There is an isolated city, Wan Ren Mountain, above the white clouds of the Yellow River in Wang Zhihuan. The Qiang people's long March has not yet returned. But the dragon city will fly, and flax will not teach Huayin Mountain. Chai Lu, Wang Wei, there seems to be no one on the empty mountain. However, I think I heard a voice, where the sun shone through the moss into a forest, shining back to my special envoy Yuan Er, Anxi, Wang Wei and the Acropolis. The green willow in the guest house is new in color. I advise you to have one more drink and go out of Yangguan for no reason. Wang Wei, who missed his brothers' mountain holidays in Shandong, missed his relatives in a foreign land every holiday. He knew his brother's climbing place from a distance. One person is missing from the dogwood. In the silent night, I miss Li Bai. There is such a bright line at the foot of my bed. Is there frost there already? Looking up, I found it was moonlight, sinking again, and I suddenly remembered home. When I was a child, I didn't know the moon, so I called it a white jade plate. I also suspect that Yao Taijing flew at the end of Yun Lan. Looking at Lushan Waterfall, Li Bai's sunshine incense burner gives birth to purple smoke. Looking at Qianchuan Waterfall, it went straight down to thousands of feet, and it was suspected that the Milky Way had fallen for nine days. I gave it to Wang Lun, Li Bai, who was about to leave by boat. Suddenly, I heard singing on the shore. Peach Blossom Pond is deeper in thousands of feet than in Wang Lun. The Yellow Crane Tower, an old friend of Meng Haoran, was bid farewell to Li Bai in Yangzhou. Fireworks went down to Yangzhou in March. Sailing alone, only the Yangtze River flows in the sky. Arrive in Bai Di City ahead of time. Li Baichao said goodbye to Bai Di Caiyun, and thousands of miles away from Jiangling will return in one day. Apes on both sides of the Taiwan Strait are crying, and canoes have crossed Chung Shan Man. Looking at Tianmen Mountain, Li Baitianmen, the Chu River interrupted Du Fu, two orioles singing green willows, and a line of egrets went up to the sky. The window contains thousands of autumn snows in Xiling, and it is at the gate of Wu Dong Wan Li. Du Fu of Delighting in Rain on a Spring Night knows the rainy season, which happens when spring comes. The wind sneaked into the night and moistened everything quietly. The wild path is dark, and the river boat is on fire alone. Look at the red and wet place, the flowers on Jinguan City are heavy. Du Fu is beautiful in the evening, fragrant in the spring breeze, and the mud melts. Yuanyang, sleep on the warm beach. Looking for flowers by the river, Du Fu's Huangshi Building is in front of the river, lazy and sleepy in spring, leaning against the wind. Peach blossoms are in full bloom, and lovely deep red loves light red. One night near Fengqiao, Zhang Jishuang, Jiang Feng's fishing fire was worrying about not sleeping. Hanshan Temple outside Gusu City, the midnight bell goes to the passenger ship. Wanderers sang for Meng Jiao about the thread in the hands of their loving mother, the clothes carefully sewn for their wayward son, and the clothes she completely mended, fearing that it would delay his time to go home. But how much love there is an inch-long grass, Liu Zongyuan, and there are no birds in the mountains, and there are no footprints in a thousand miles, a boat, a bamboo cloak, an old man fishing in the cold Jiang Xue, a fisherman's singer, an egret flying in front of Zhang Sai Shan, and a peach blossom and flowing water, and a mandarin fish fat and green. The next song, Lulungao, in the faint moonlight, geese soar and flee at night. If you want to ride lightly, the snow is full of bows and knives. Looking at Dongting, Liu Yuxi, the lake is clear in autumn. There is a green snail in the silver plate. The waves and sands of the Yellow River, Wan Li of Liu Yuxi, swept from the end of the world to the end of the world. Now they go straight to the Milky Way and go to Penny Weaver's house. They were given the ancient grass to bid farewell to Bai Juyi. The boundless grass is on the plain, coming and going with each season. Wildfire never completely consumes them. They are tall and sweet again in the spring wind. They are on the old highway and reach the crumbling gate. Oh, my friend's prince, you are gone again, full of special feelings. Bai Juyi's little baby on the pool propped up the boat and stole the white lotus back. Hu Lingneng children fishing, a bald boy, is learning to hold on to the grass on the raspberry platform. Passers-by waved at a distance, fearing that the fish would not be surprised. In Li Shen, a farmer was weeding at noon when rice dripped on the soil. Who knows that every Chinese food is hard? Jia Dao, I asked your student under a pine tree, "My teacher," he replied, "went to collect medicine," but how do I know where the mountain is and through all the clouds? . Du Muyuan Hanshan, Baiyun Mountain is occupied. Stop and sit in the maple forest late, the frost leaves are red. The shepherd boy points to Xinghua Village. In spring in the south of the Yangtze River, Du Mu's thousands of miles of warblers sing green and reflect red, and the water town is full of wine flags. There are many terraces in the misty rain of the 480 Hall in the Southern Dynasties. The first volume of primary school Chinese reads ancient poems and paintings. Song is anonymous in the distance, and the water nearby is silent. Flowers are still there in spring, so it's not surprising that people come to watch birds. The endless grass on the plain comes and goes in four seasons. Wildfire never completely burns them down, but they grow taller in the spring breeze. Song Fan Zhongyan, a fisherman on the river, comes and goes, but loves the beauty of his perch. Looking at a boat in June, wandering in the storm. He sat alone in the pavilion. Lonely clouds go to leisure alone. I never get tired of watching it. There seems to be no one on Jingting Mountain and Weikong Mountain, but I think I heard a voice, sunshine, entering a small forest. From the green moss, Wei stood alone on the tight bamboo. I played my pipa and hummed a song so softly that no one heard it except my comrade, Mingyue. When I climbed the stork tower, Don's day was over, and oceans drain the golden river. I want thousands of miles away, I want by going up one flight of stairs. The owner of Furong Mountain, Liu Tang Evergreen, is far away at dusk. It's cold and the house is poor. Chai Men smells dogs barking, and the snow returns home at night. Li Shen, a farmer in the Tang Dynasty, planted a millet in spring and harvested 10,000 seeds in autumn. There are no idle fields in the four seas, so farmers starve to death. In the Tang Dynasty, Shen Li plowed the field at noon, and rice dripped into the soil. Who knew it was difficult to eat Chinese food? Li Bai's dangerous building in the Tang Dynasty is hundreds of feet high, and he can pick stars in his hand at night. He dare not speak loudly for fear of scaring people. The ancient waves are called white jade plates. I also suspect that Yao Tai Jing flies at the tail of Qingyun Mountain. In the Song Dynasty, Wang Anshi's plum blossom bloomed alone. I know from a distance that it is not snow, because it has a faint fragrance. There are no birds in the mountains of Jiang Zongyuan, and there are no footprints in thousands of roads. A boat and a bamboo coat, an old man is fishing in the cold Jiang Xue. In the dead of night, I think of Tang Libai, and the foot of the bed is so bright. Could it have been frosted? Looking up, I found it was moonlight, sinking again, and I suddenly remembered home. Ancient poems in the second volume of primary school Chinese: reciting Liu Tang and Zhang Zhi's jasper decorating trees, ten thousand pieces hang down.