keats
Poetry of the earth will never die.
When all the birds are dazzled by the hot sun
Hidden in the shady forest, there is a sound.
Floating on the hedge around the newly cut grass.
That's the music of Guoguo! It is scrambling to indulge in the luxury of midsummer, and it never feels that its happiness is gradually disappearing.
Once you are tired of singing, lie comfortably on the comfortable grass.
The poetry of the earth never stops.
On a lonely winter night, when the frost condenses.
Silence rang from the fireplace.
Cricket's singing, in the rising heating and drowsiness, makes people feel that the sound is the chirping of crickets on the grassy mountain.