Article 1: Six years ago,
Mom took my hand,
Take me to the campus.
? Good boy, listen to the teacher and study hard. ?
Mom's seems to be still ringing in my ears.
In class,
The teacher looked at my face,
aoe， 123？
A little knowledge,
Like a drizzle in spring.
Moisten my heart.
Dear students, you must remember, right?
That riddle of yours,
We can guess right away.
That joke you told,
We laughed for days. I failed the exam,
You cry sadly;
Fighting countless times,
We laugh together.
Two poplars in front of the building,
Witness our growth;
Green playground,
Run our joy;
Quiet computer room,
Open our curious eyes.
We appreciate it, okay?
For six years,
The headmaster inspired us? Love to fight to win? ,
The teacher painted a bright background for our life.
The school provides us with colorful days.
Don't worry,
Dear alma mater;
Don't worry,
Dear teacher?
Wherever a 62-year-old goes,
There will be life and health.
Dear teacher:
Let us sincerely thank you,
Dear students:
Finally, take care and say goodbye.
Goodbye?
Article 2: The manuscript of the sixth grade graduation poem in primary school was called primary school for a period of time.
Six years is not long.
We haven't learned to do our homework neatly yet.
Graduated in an instant.
I became a little teacher correcting students' homework.
Five years is not short.
Thousands of days and nights
It's heavy in the basket.
I'm afraid it's much higher than the desk.
The expansion time is getting longer and longer.
An experience
There is a place called Alma Mater in Yuanye.
It was Yuan Ye in spring.
Yuan Ye in autumn.
We take root and sprout in spring.
We head and blossom in autumn.
Lang Lang's Book Sound
sound of rain
And jointing and cracking.
It constitutes the most wonderful movement in Yuanye.
There is a forest called teacher.
Poplar is very tall.
Buttonwood trees are deep.
Ginkgo tree is selfless
Magnolia is kind. '
Through dawn and dusk
We met school leaders, old teachers,
Young teachers and female teachers
The head teacher is coming towards us.
Along with them are
A touch of green
A ray of eyes
There are a group of ugly ducklings called classmates.
Three years of cold window
Maybe it didn't make a white swan.
But the ugly duckling has really grown up.
Although it didn't fly into the sky, it was a blockbuster.
But we saw the ugly duckling clearly.
Soaring under the blue sky.
There is a kind of relationship that is hard to break, also called classmates.
There is an unforgettable feeling, so I still call my classmates.
When we first met,
It is a noun.
Talking about it feels like
Abstract, hazy, careless
Even light.
This is unbearable lightness.
At graduation
It is a verb.
Secret burial
Quietly accumulate
Slowly brew
When moved and lonely
This is an adjective.
A person can't help crying quietly.
Still smile and think about it and regret it.
When we get together,
I prefer it as an adverb of degree.
Tonight, let it be 20 years
Precipitation, accumulation, patience.
Spend endlessly.
Free release.
Chapter III: Reading Draft of Graduation Poems of Grade Six in Primary School "Dear Alma Mater"
The south wind blows gently, and time always flies by.
Today, we stand here,
Instead of singing that touching and sad eulogy,
Don't let your lips tremble again,
Today, we stand here, standing on the threshold of graduation,
Looking back on a warm time of six years in primary school,
Let's start a journey of gratitude for our hearts together.
Looking forward to a beautiful life together for three years in junior high school.
Embark on our new life journey together.
Alma mater,
We are the eternal green space in your vast garden,
Is the white sail swaying in your warm river,
Is a red leaf on your solid trunk,
Is a pure blue sky in your vast sky.
I spent six years,
Feel your 50 years of vicissitudes,
Read your 50 years of glory. In your arms,
In your shade,
Every moment exudes the fragrance of memory.
Thanks to this land of hope, we accepted our young footprints and sprouted our initial enlightenment.
Thanks to my alma mater for building a broad stage and laying a bright future for us.
Who led us into the palace of human civilization?
Who supports our hope of progress?
Who is it, persuasion and indoctrination?
Who is it, unknown and diligent?
Is our teacher, our honorable guide.
You are not a singer, but let the clear spring of knowledge tinkle;
You are not a writer, but you make the chapter of life last forever.
You are not a sculptor, but you have shaped our souls.
You are not a painter, but you have painted the most beautiful picture for us?
Thank you, dear teacher,
Your careful reminder makes me feel like a spring breeze.
Your kind eyes make me feel warm.
Your warm smile redoubled my courage.
With your strong support, let me rise up and move forward.
We will always remember your teachings, and we will fly higher and higher in the sky of knowledge!