Two poems of spring, summer, autumn and winter. Urgent! ! ! ! ! !

spring

"Singing Willow" by Tang and Zhang Zhi

Emerald is shaped into a tall tree.

Ten thousand drooping green silk threads

Who doesn't know exactly.

The cold wind in early spring

Du Fu in Delighting in Rain on a Spring Night

Good rain knows the season, when spring comes.

Sneak into the night with the wind, moisten things silently.

The wild path is dark, and the river is bright.

Look at the red and wet place, the flowers in Jinguancheng are heavy.

summer

Song Yang Wanli

After all, in mid-June,

The scenery is different from the four seasons.

Lotus leaves are infinitely green,

Lotus flowers are particularly bright and dazzling in the sun.

Fan Song Chengda

Plums are golden, apricots are fat,

The wheat is gray and the cauliflower is thin.

No one crossed the long fence,

Only dragonflies and butterflies can fly.

autumn

An autumn night in the mountains, don

The empty mountains are bathed in a new rain, and feel the early autumn at night. The bright moon shed clear light from the cracks and cleared the fountain on the rocks.

The bamboo forest is sonorous, the washerwoman returns, and the lotus leaves are swaying to get on the canoe. Spring spring might as well give it a rest, and the autumn sun can stay on the hills for a long time.

Du Fu in Gordon Tang Dynasty

The wind is fast and high, the ape cries sadly, and the birds are circling in the white sand.

The endless trees are rustling leaves, and the Yangtze River is rolling unpredictably.

Li in the sad autumn scenery, a wanderer all the year round, lives alone on the high platform in today's illness.

After all the hardships and hatred, the white hair is full, and the wine glasses are damaged.

winter

"Master of Furong Mountain in the Snow" Liu Tang Changqing

The setting sun is far away, the weather is cold and the house is poor. Chai Men hears dogs barking and returns on a snowy night.

"Jiang Xue" Liu Tang Zongyuan

There are no birds flying over those mountains, and there are no traces of people in those paths. A boat on the river, a fisherman wearing his webworm moth; Fishing alone is not afraid of snow and ice.