There is a swing.
During recess, happy students.
Swallows fly freely in pairs.
A flowered skirt floated in.
There are many butterflies flying.
A smiling face is like the rising sun.
Hold my hand and swing together.
Fly high like a kite
The face almost touched the clouds.
The distant mountains in early spring
Hua Ding is as white as snow.
The bird with a beautiful mouth landed on the swing.
Break the rope loudly.
We hugged each other and fell down together.
I haven't remembered it for a long time.
I wrote:
September is a golden ocean,
Autumn is the fragrance of fruit,
We have new hope,
We are flowers waiting to bloom,
We are Hongyan, and we are about to spread our wings and fly.
We are the sun in the sky,
We are full of vigor and vitality.
We must have fun on campus,
How passionate our reading is,
Our happiness is all over the playground.
Our happiness hangs on our faces,
Our purity is as white as moonlight,
Our knowledge is gradually increasing,
It is the teacher who leads us to paddle the oars of life.
It is teachers who escort our growth.
Without the hard work of teachers and gardeners, how can our flowers bloom beautifully?
If there is no teacher's candle-like dedication, how can our campus shine?