What are the poems about the four seasons?

1, which dynasty was the author of ""?

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.

Good rain seems to pick the right time, arrival in the spring when everything is born. With the breeze, quietly into the night. Fine and dense, nourishing everything on the earth. Thick dark clouds covered the fields and paths, and only a little fishing fire from a fishing boat by the river emitted a ray of light, which was particularly bright. When the morning comes, the wet soil must be covered with red petals, and the streets and alleys of Jinguancheng must be a colorful scene.

2, "Mountain Pavilion Summer"-the author Gao Pian in the Tang Dynasty

Green trees, deep shadows, long summer, the reflection of the tower in the pond.

The crystal curtains are blowing gently, and the roses are fragrant.

The trees are lush and dark, the summer is long, and the reflection of the balcony is reflected in the pond. The water curtain shakes and the breeze blows, and the roses are full of fragrance.

3. "How Deep is the Courtyard of Liang Zhu"-by Ouyang Xiu in Song Dynasty?

In the courtyard, deep willows pile up smoke, and the curtains are not counted. Jade music carving saddle tour smelting place, the building is not high, look at Zhangtai Road.

March storm, closing at dusk, not planning to stay in spring. Tears ask flowers silently, and red flies over the swing.

The courtyard is deep. How deep is it? Willow Yiyi, flying with patches of smoke, a curtain with many layers. Luxurious chariots and horses are parked in the place where aristocratic childe plays. She went upstairs and looked into the distance, but she couldn't see the way to Zhangtai. Spring is dusk, and the rain in March is accompanied by strong winds. No matter how you hide the evening scenery, you can't keep spring. I tearfully asked Luohua if she knew my thoughts. Falling flowers are silent and chaotic, flying out of the swing bit by bit.