What verses are used to praise the lotus flowers in the West Lake in summer?

1. Verses about summer in West Lake

Verses about summer in West Lake 1. Verses about summer in West Lake Ancient poems

The Northern Song Dynasty writer Su Shi's "After Drinking on the Lake in the First Sunny" "Rain"

It is beautiful to see the light of the water, and the sky and the rain on the mountains are also strange.

If you want to compare West Lake to Xizi, it is always better to put on light makeup and heavy makeup.

Su Shi's "Drunken Book at Wanghu Tower on June 27th"

Black clouds rolled over the mountains but the ink did not cover the mountains, and white raindrops jumped into the boat.

The ground wind blows away suddenly, and the water under Wanghu Tower is like the sky.

Yang Wanli, a poet of the Southern Song Dynasty, "Walking off to Lin Zifang from Jingci Temple at dawn"

After all, in the middle of June, the scenery of West Lake is different from that of the four seasons.

The lotus leaves touching the sky are infinitely green, and the lotus flowers reflecting the sun are uniquely red.

Song Dynasty poet Lu You's "Early Summer Quatrains"

The reds and purples have turned into dust, and the sound of cuckoo brings the newness of summer.

After walking along endless roads, I realize that I am a man of peace.

"Miscellaneous Poems of the West Lake" written by Huang Ren, a Qing Dynasty poet and Tibetan inkstone expert,

pays attention to the visitors entering the painting, and the pavilions are embroidered and covered with flowers.

The Song family had thousands of miles of Central Plains land and won ten hectares of lakes in Qiantang.

Lin Sheng, a poet of the Southern Song Dynasty, "Inscribed on Lin'an Residence"

Outside the Qingshan Tower outside the mountain, when does the singing and dancing in the West Lake stop?

The warm breeze makes tourists drunk, and they mistake Hangzhou for Bianzhou.

"Meng Xia" by Jia Yan, the school secretary of the Tang Dynasty

In Meng Xia in the south of the Yangtze River, bamboo shoots are like bamboo shoots. The mirage becomes the pavilion, and the sound of frogs becomes the orchestra.