少时壮且历,抚剑独行游。清晨,置一壶香茗,任茶香在温润的空气中氤氲缭绕。案头的那部《诗经》似乎也不甘寂寞,灼灼的桃花,还有那牵牛花的叶子也悄然爬上了书脊……窗外的菊花繁盛如潮,开得那么甜蜜、自信、汹涌。淡黄,嫩白……层层叠叠地荡涤着诗人的心。遥想先儒“立功,立言, When he was young, he used his sword to travel alone. In the early morning, set a pot of citrons and let any tea lingers in the warm air. The “Book of Songs” on the desk seemed to be unwilling to be lonely, the peach blossoming, and the leaves of the morning glory still creeping into the spine. The chrysanthemum outside the window thrived and was so sweet, confident, and surging. Light yellow, tender white... The layers of the poet’s heart are covered with layers. Rethinking the first Confucianism, making meritorious deeds