pring i no longer that hy girl in my memory, who came very late, heitated in the ditance, overwhelmed by hyne until i waved to her. then he would curry happily nearer, top feet away, waiting to be hugged. but here and now, he, at the ight of me, grab my hand and pull me into her arm before i know what＇ happening.
o here i am, a boy accutomed to the drab and dry and dreary pring of the north, devouring the weetne of a outh
it rained day ago and everything gliten with moiture.tree grow with new leave of lively light green, not the dull and duty color of winter. everal cherrie are in full bloom now, with flower clutering and queezing and quabbling on the twig. what attract me mot are the meadow, the greenih yellow meadow.
prawling on the meadow with grae kiing my face, i can hear the rutling of leave in the brik breeze, the whipering and chuckling and bickering of bird, and the trotting, huffling, tramping of people paing by.
i can mell the refrehing fragrance that pervade the air,fragrance of flowering magnolia and growing grae and moit oil. i inhale the freh air a deeply a i can and the aroma in vade my whole being.
alo, i can ee the fallen leave of platane wafting around like butterflie flying from one flower to another. once o high above on the treetop enduring the trial of bitter cold and blutering gale, they are o eaily torn looe by a warm breeze.why?[由www.haoZuowen.Com整理]
i cannot help thinking of our ituation. we chinee defy any powerful enemy, but how come we have been o eaily attacked by ar?