怎样开菜鸟驿站代理点:描写春天、夏天、秋天和冬天的句子或词汇

This is the truning of the year
The final scene before the curtain falls
The squirrel warm within his bed of leaves
Can not hear the wind that blows around the chimney pots
Naked trees in the sky
Stars are shinning clear and cold

以上是冬天.来源:歌词

wild west wind, you're the breath of autumn
from whose unseen presence the leveas dead

以上是秋天.来源:诗句

the sun was just setting on a cloudless night,and the wind carried a hint of rain and dust

以上是夏天.来源:小说

抛砖引玉啊~

The Four Seasons
In a year there are four seasons: spring, summer, autumn and winter. Every season has three months, and each month has thirty days or so.
Spring is the first season, which consists of March, April, and May. In spring the sun shines brightly in the blue sky. The winds blow gently. The little streams flow merrily on. The flowers show their pretty shapes. The trees send out little buds and new leaves. Farmers begin to plough the soil and sow the seed. All of nature is clothed in lovely green.
Next comes summer, which comprises June, July and August. The sun shines blazingly and the heat is unbearable. The days are long and the nights are short. The plants grow in profusion. In order to avoid the hot climate, many people go to the seaside and mountains.
Summer is followed by autumn. September, October and November are the autumn months. The climate is mild and the air balmy. Fruits are plentiful and grains are ripe. The trees are wearing their brown and yellow robes; some tender ones are turned by the frost into the brilliant colours – orange, purple and scarlet.
The last season is winter containing December, January and February. The dreary, dull weather reigns over the world. The biting cold wind blows pitilessly. The snow begins to drift like a whirl wind through lanes and streets. Birds are no longer singing their cheerful notes. All things look forlorn and desolate. But winter is not very long with us, for spring soon comes around again.
Here is a nice poem for us to memorize:
Spring is gay with flower and song,
Summer is hot and the days are long.
Autumn is rich with fruit and grain,
Winter brings snow and the New Year again.

From 《英语背诵范文精华》

SPRING
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;
Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
Gold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we here aye birds tune this merry lay,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
Spring! The sweet Spring!

by Thomas Nash

A SUMMER DAY
One day thirty years ago Marseilles lay in the burning sun. A blazing sun upon a fierce August day was no greater rarity in southern France then than at any other time before or since. Everything in Marseilles and about Marseilles had started at the fervid sun, and been stared at in return, until a staring habit had become universal there. Strangers were stared out of countenance by staring white houses, staring white streets, staring tracts of arid road, staring hills from which verdure was burnt away. The only things to be seen not fixedly staring and glaring were the vines drooping under their loads of grapes. These did occasionally wink a little, as the hot air barely moved their faint leaves.
The universal stare made the eyes ache. Towards the distant blue of the Italian coast, indeed, it was a little relieved by light clouds of mist slowly rising from the evaporation of the sea, but it softened nowhere else. Far away the staring roads, deep in dust, stared from the hillside, stared from the hollow, stared from the interminable plain. Far away the dusty vines overhanging wayside cottages, and the monotonous wayside avenues of parched trees without shade, dropped beneath the stare of earth and sky. So did the horses with drowsy bells, in long files of carts, creeping slowly towards the interior; so did their recumbent drivers, when they were awake, which rarely happened; so did the exhausted laborers in the fields. Everything that lived or grew was oppressed by the glare; except the lizard, passing swiftly over rough stone walls, and cicada, chirping its dry hot chirp, like a rattle. The very dust was scorched brown, and something quivered in the atmosphere as if the air itself were panting.
Blinds, shutters, curtains, awnings, were all closed and drawn to keep out the stare. Grant it but a chink or a keyhole, and it shot in like a white-hot arrow.

by Charles Dickens