Verses about mother s love, teacher s grace, family, autumn scene can be modern poetry

Wanderer's Groan. Tang] Mengjiao.

The line in the mother's hand, the wanderer's shirt. Before leaving, I am afraid that I will return late. Whoever says an inch is careless, and he will be rewarded with three springs. Maternal love.

I never want to give up a piece of paper, I always keep it—keep it.

They were folded into very small boats and thrown out of the boat and thrown into the sea.

Some were swept into the windows of the boat by the wind, and some were wet by the waves and stuck on the bow of the boat.

I still don't lose heart, stacking it every day, always hoping that one can flow to where I want it to go.

Mother, if you see a very small white boat in your dreams, don't be surprised that it falls asleep for no reason.

This is your beloved daughter with tears in her eyes, thousands of rivers and mountains, begging it to carry her love.

and sorrow returns.

Whoever says an inch is careless, and he will be rewarded with three springs.

The mother of the child is worried!

Moonlit Night" Tonight, the moon in Yinzhou, the boudoir only looks alone. Pity the little children, and do not understand the memory of Chang'an.

The fragrant mist is wet, and the clear jade arm is cold. When leaning on the false pretense, the tear stains of Shuangzhao were dry and muddy, like a dream, and the sound of a loving mother calling her children was heard.

The sound seems to have a thousand weights, and the sound is engraved in my heart.

Thirty-nine days, good wind, there is a pulsatilla in the wind.

Although the septuagenarian father is old, he is still worried about his son.

Don't be an old mother. Qing] Huang Zhongze.

Bow to the mother river beam, white hair and tears dry.

The miserable snowy night in Chaimen, at this time, it is better to have a son than nothing.

Fifteenth" Song] Wang Anshi.

The mother will be on the ditch and leave the family white and yin.

When the moon heard Du Yu, the north and the south always cared.

Teacher's Ode to others making money out of life.

You can only get floral scents.

Yours is the morning sun.

Your silver is fifteen moons.

But you're still whistling happily.

Your pride in Peach Plum Fenfen.

At the end of the year, "Qing] Jiang Shiquan.

The love of the son is endless, and he is happy to return home. The cold clothes are densely sewn, and the ink marks of the family letter are new.

When he met Pian Qingqing, Hu'er asked about the hardships. He was ashamed of the son of man, and he didn't dare to sigh for the dust.

Mountain Dwelling Autumn Twilight" [Tang] Wang Wei.

After the new rain in the empty mountains, the weather is late in autumn. The bright moon shines among the pines, and the clear spring stone is upstream.

The bamboo noise returns to the Huannu, and the lotus moves the fishing boat. Feel free to rest in spring, and the kings and grandchildren can stay.

Autumn Nocturne" [Tang] Wang Wei.

Guilu was born in the autumn dew, and Qingluo was thin and did not change clothes.

Yinzheng has been diligent for a long time, and he can't bear to return to the empty room. A teacher for one day, a father for life.

A good teacher is worth 10,000 books.

The peach and plum do not speak, and the next is its own.

Midnight Autumn Song" [Tang] Li Bai.

Chang'an is a month, and thousands of households pound clothes.

The autumn wind blows endlessly, and it is always a jade relationship.

He Riping Hulu, the beloved man went on an expedition.

Savvy. Everything about you that others are familiar with.

Gentle, silent, virtuous.

I don't know all of this.

I only see the corners of your mouth raised.

And for me. I can't hide the smile that fills my face.

Why? Are you willing to stop the habit of suffering?

Whether you are willing to sleep for more than five hours.

Because I watched you yelling at me.

The heart fluttered, and the faint cavity keys ached.

Why? Are you tired?

You're getting old, Mom.

Grinding your gray hair.

You're covered with snow.

It was like a thorn in front of my eyes.

I knew it was a snow for me.

It is at the cost of years and spirit.

In the name of love. Mom: You've got some more gray hair.

So I said, "Keep it, so I can think of you."

I hear your voice.

It's too gentle to be.

Hoarse precipitation.

I smiled and carried the calendar.

Look at the last strand left on your head.

Close to the deep green silk.

So quietly pulled it off.

It's like seeing your deep love for me.

This song is about mother's love....Sorry for being late? Will it be late to debate and search....In addition, this ......It's purely a brain hole....Finally, thank you for reading this poem