Hello, host! Poem 1 in Praise of Teachers: Four spring breezes have transformed preparations, and several autumn rains have washed away the gaps. The black hair accumulates frost and weaves the sun and the moon, and the chalk silently writes the Spring and Autumn Period. The silk is not old even if it is spun out in spring, and the tears of candles turn into gray and become thicker in autumn. Three thousand peaches and plums are sown in spring, and China is full of fruits in autumn. Praise for Teachers Poem 2: I love my teacher. The teacher is like a red candle, which ignites the torch in the students' hearts, but burns himself until the red candle turns to ashes. Teachers are like gardeners, nurturing our flowers, but working hard on themselves until their physical strength is exhausted. When we grow up, we must become the pillars of the country, ah! The teacher is so selfless! ah! Teacher we love you! Not original!