From the goats this fall. Problems of modern education. Pick the right attachments and add them to this autumn viburnum bush

05.10.2011 05:51

I agree that many ridiculous verses are placed in current textbooks, in which there are many unjustified repetitions, unfamiliar words, and sometimes difficult-to-understand comparisons and metaphorical expressions. We have many of these in our Reading textbook, it is even more difficult for Nikita to teach them when there are eternal repetitions, since there is confusion over how many times it is necessary to repeat. Here is one of these, recently taught, the essence seems to be clear (for an adult who already freely perceives poetic images), but it is not perceived by my child so much, especially that it means “on fire and burns, does not say anything”, takes it just literally, that I GOT ON from a match, but that does not say anything is generally stupid! Plus, it's almost a tongue twister if pronounced quickly!
This autumn the viburnum bush
Caught fire and burns,
Caught fire and burns,
Does not say anything.
Saying nothing
It will burn out until January.
Blaze redder fire -
The berries will be tastier!

Now about your next post, Jan. By the way, in general, I liked Bryusov's poem, but it is still more suitable for free reading, since the form of the verse is complex, deviates from the standards, and again, the age of the reader should be taken into account here, this is no earlier than 14-15 years old, in my opinion.

How beautiful the autumn forest is. The air is fresh and filled with the scent of fallen leaves. Yellow, crimson, purple and orange leaves circle quietly in the air and fall to the ground. Soon a carpet of fallen leaves will wrap the clearing and paths in the forest.

Bunches of berries are blazing on the branches of the mountain ash. This is a favorite treat for birds. Sparrows and crows flock to the mountain ash and peck juicy, liquid berries.

But the birds are not heard in the forest. Many flew south to warm countries. Ducks and rooks followed the sun. The flock of cranes rushed into the distance with a sharp wedge.

Quiet in the forest. One can only hear a bear bursting in twigs in the deadwood bushes. He is looking for berries left on the bushes. Very soon, the bear will lay down in a den and fall asleep until the very spring.

Squirrels flash like fiery arrows on the branches of the trees. Stored squirrels are looking for nuts and berries to replenish stocks for the winter.

(133 words)

Rowan

Rowan is a real autumn beauty. With the onset of autumn, trees try to get rid of unnecessary foliage and ripe fruits. And the mountain ash is just beginning to decorate its branches with a scattering of crimson and scarlet fruits. Bittersweet rowan berries are a favorite delicacy of birds.

Rowan grows everywhere: on the outskirts of the forest, at the edge, in a clearing. It also grows near houses. You can often see a spreading rowan crown in a park or garden.

Rowan likes solitude. She does not like dense thickets. Here stands a proud, majestic and lonely mountain ash. Although many trees want to be friends with rowan. It's all about the birds. Attracted by fragrant berries, birds fly in flocks to the tree. Places with berries, birds peck at numerous pests.

Bend thin branches of mountain ash under the gusts of wind. But the mountain ash does not give up. Its elastic trunk can withstand even the strongest winds.

Until late autumn, the adorable mountain ash outfit enchants us. "What a beauty!" - we involuntarily exclaim.

(136 words)

Fog

The evening dawn was burning out. The last rays of the sun snatched the trunks of the trees out of the darkness. Fallen leaves rustled softly underfoot.

The bulk of the forest was visible in the distance. The gloomy trees seemed to stretch their bare branches towards me. Drops of evening dew sparkled on the withered grass.

I went to the edge of the forest and walked along a narrow path through a huge field. It was difficult to walk. The grass clung to the legs and tangled the tracks. Ripe wheat ears rang softly in the darkness. The night bird rushed past and touched my cheek with its wing.

Fog began to rise from the ground. Thick clouds of milky color enveloped everything around. Not even an outstretched hand is visible. How do I find my way home?

I continued walking forward, trying not to stray off the well-trodden path. Soon the path took me to the outskirts of the village. Through a veil of fog, I saw a narrow crescent moon in the sky. Now I know the way. I'll be home soon.

(132 words)

Tasks:

1. Parse 2 sentences.

2. Write out the words with alternating vowels at the root of the word.

3. Disassemble the words by composition: burned out, trodden down.

Late fall

Each season has its own charm. Wildlife is sensitive to any changes. Likewise, late autumn pleases the eye with unprecedented colors and delightful aromas of wet foliage.

Silence. You can only hear the fallen leaves rustling. Large drops of rain hung on the bare branches of the trees. Here one drop fell off a branch and crashed loudly on the ground. Cheerful splashes sparkled joyfully in the sun.

Wet foliage enveloped the gardens and parks. You walk along the path and hear the leaves rustling mysteriously under your feet. A gray mouse lurks in a small pile of leaves. She crawled out of the cozy burrow in search of supplies.

The cold is coming soon. The puddles will twitch thin ice, and the trees will be enveloped in a blanket of snow. The breath of winter is already in the air.

(111 words)

Tasks:

1. Write down the words with a soft sign. Indicate the part of speech.

2. Parse 2 sentences.

3. Write down words of the same root from the text.

Source: xn —- 8sbiecm6bhdx8i.xn - p1ai

Rowan bunches in ruby color.
Birds feast large and small.
Autumn will prepare lunch for everyone.
Autumn gifts with a fragrant armful,
I will treat you.
A birch branch, a needle foot
to decorate verses in the sadness of autumn.
Choose the time, let's go to the forest to the birches.
We will sit in quiet silence by the birches.
Let us shed some silvery tears of rain.
Where the grass is wet, we will follow the path.
Bunches of viburnum from lateness are scarlet
I will offer you.
Lines of verse, naively crazy,
in the sunny autumn I will read.

1. I will hold a bunch of viburnum in the palm of my hand,
It burns with ruby fire.
Frost will not touch her soon,
However, my thoughts are not about him.
P-in:
Viburnum bush is on fire,
Our love was not long at all.
We parted, apparently, not destiny,
And the taste of viburnum - bitterness on the lips.
2. Frost bound my soul with a fierce cold,
And I cannot cope with the melancholy.
You are still loved and I need you
And the viburnum bush shines over the river.
3. How quickly our summer has burnt out,
They fell into the palm of your hand
Misty autumn sunrises
And only a bunch of viburnum is like fire.

Copyright: Svetlana Yulina, 2013
Certificate of publication No. 113010610975

Scarlet viburnum brushes
The wind sways in the garden.
Summer has already passed by
Turning into a dream again.
I won't look back goodbye
I don’t presume to judge the time.
And across the carpet of herbs
Silently, at dawn, I'll walk.
Patterns lovely to the heart
I will certainly return to them.
These distant spaces -
Long-suffering Russia. 22
08.22.08 Copyright: Davydova Tatiana Sergeevna, 2012
Certificate of publication No. 11208306747

And a bunch of viburnum, the rain is rinsing,
All gossip, sheer lies!
And late autumn, rains, rains,
But don't judge your love ...
Chorus:
The wind shakes, a bunch of viburnums,
And may your love
As a late guest.
Comes in unexpected
But long-awaited.
And autumn will be
So desirable!
The red viburnum in the garden is ripe,
And it was not in vain that I dared to love.
All the gossip will pass, be forgotten,
And all my dreams, let them come true.
Let the autumn be late, scarlet viburnum,
The scorched foliage has been nailed down by rain.
Keep people of love warm,
So that the soul is not covered with snow.
And in the rain the viburnum is crying
And everyone around is still gossiping ...
And life happens, it tastes tart,
Let the river not shallow love.
11/07/13 years
Rogachev. Copyright: Vadim Antosh-Kozlov, 2013
Certificate of publication No. 113110704405

Autumn is not over in Moscow, so talking about "autumn" texts with kids is quite relevant.

What they did was very concise.

Before the holidays, Koval was reading about autumn - "The Last Leaf" and "A Jug with a Leaf Beat." There were two assignments for the holidays. One - "What will the room smell like when you open your vacation jar?" Here "Boratynsky rzhot and beats" and "what a charm". I do not even quote, because you will get your share of pleasure if you ask, for example, about the winter holidays.

Tiny story:

Pitcher with leaf breaker

Damp earth, honey agarics, smoke from potato fields smells of leaf-worm. On a river cliff, where the wind is especially strong, I put a red clay jug under its stream, scooped up a lot of leaf beetle and corked the jug with a wooden cork, filled it with wax. Friends will gather in Serebryanichesky Lane on a winter evening. I will get cabbage, sauerkraut with viburnum, pureodorian mushrooms. Then I'll bring the jug and pull out the cork. Friends will look at the jug, clap on its ringing sides and wonder why it is empty. And the room will smell of damp earth, sweet mushrooms and smoke from potato fields.

The second task - a question about "The Last Leaf" - "Why did the artist fail to draw a drawing?"

In principle, a banal task. But. What opportunities does it give? Talk about color and shades. Today one boy Andryusha has listed us a huge number of shades of red. Everyone, of course, says that it is impossible to adequately et cetera. And this is good.

And my favorite non-formatted Sasha gave out, and I fell out, that the artist abandons attempts to finish the drawing after he saw the jay: "Rrruzhzhie-oh-oh! I, like a jay sitting on a mountain ash, looked at the autumn forest properly and was completely upset. He slammed a box of paints, picked up a maple leaf from the ground and hotly glued it onto the drawing. "That is, the child told me, the artist perceived the living forest with all his senses, and this wealth did not fit into the colors alone. (I think Golyavkin bounced back and Hurrah!)

Also - a wonderful poem for kids by Sergei Kozlov - "Autumn". it's long, we took a part - we ended up with a mole. But it's all wonderful. They thought how many and what pictures could be drawn, and proved them with text. The images are remarkably drawn - a steam locomotive house, cornflowers with sheep, viburnum ...

Sergey Kozlov

Autumn

This fall
most often
house with a porch frozen in the ground
And smokes
Like real
Wooden steam locomotive.
On the road will meet-
The headlights-windows are on.
Will buzz with its pipe
Will scare you and me.

dry and light
this autumn
Cornflowers.
Sleep in a haystack
in your home,
will not open to anyone.
only a lamb
on a winter evening
leave the house to meet

this autumn
The fox is not happy
this autumn
Leaf fall
Red, fiery tail
The fox's house sweeps over.

and leaves, leaves are spinning,
as if
foxes,
foxes,
foxes.
Even the old fox
amazed:
"wonders!
where is the fox?
where is the leaf? -
Ears, tails, eyes! "

this autumn
viburnum bush
Caught fire and burns,
Lit up and burn-
Does not say anything.
Without saying anything
It will burn out until January.
Blaze the fire redder-
The berries will be tastier!

This fall
At dawn
A mole is digging holes in the mountain.
At dawn the whole mountain
In heaps of gold and silver.
In white frost
Mountain.
In white frost
Nora.
At dawn
Mole in the hole
Drowned in silver.

And the frog does not sing
He stokes the stove,
Waiting for a guest
And the frogs don't sing
If autumn comes.
This autumn by the green
No gramophone needle
Here she sits alone
Dejected by the silence.

Neither store nor alright
Yes, besides, it's still a deception.
If they say:
"Over the swamp
In the morning
Costs
Fog!"-
The frogs are burning the stove,
Guests are expected from distant countries.
And what-
Peek
And I'll tell you in the spring.

And bumblebees, bumblebees, bumblebees
They bloomed this autumn.
Oh, bumblebee, your flower
All wet to the leaf!
Ah, bumblebee, your flower
Has become gray from frost.
Well, and you yourself, dear bumblebee,
I flew into what gap
Where are you sitting
Where you buzz
Are you moving your paw sadly?

And the hare this autumn
Threw mom and dad
Threw my grandmother
I left my grandfather
I ate four trees.
And the rumor spread around
That four more to eat.

This autumn, St. John's wort,
We say goodbye to you.
Though small and unsightly,
I loved your bitter leaf.

Although bitter, not high,
I loved you flower.
Is the sky blue,
Is there white smoke over the chimney,
Like a leaf in front of the grass
I stand in front of you:
Goodbye!
Goodbye!
Animal, grass, St. John's wort!

This autumn the cranes
Waved from afar
Like a wedge across the sky
This autumn there are cranes.
With this crane wedge,
With a click this
Long, long
Having flooded a hotter stove,
We will enter our native speech.

And wonderful Zabolotsky - "September"

Big peas are pouring rain,

The wind is torn, and the distance is unclean.

Ruffled poplar is closing

Silver seamy side of the sheet.

But look: through the hole of the cloud,

Like through an arch of stone slabs

Into this kingdom of fog and darkness

The first ray, breaking through, flies.

It means that the distance is not forever curtained

Clouds, and, therefore, not in vain,

Like a girl, flashing, a nut

It shone at the end of September.

Now, painter, grab

Brush by brush, and on canvas

Golden like fire and pomegranate

Draw this girl for me.

Draw, like a tree, unsteady

A young princess in a crown

With a restlessly sliding smile

On a tear-stained young face.

We can talk about the last stanza for a long, long time: about why exactly such details of the description-personification are used. Something like this. Here.

Autumn is not over in Moscow, so talking about "autumn" texts with kids is quite relevant.

What they did was very concise.

Tiny story:

Pitcher with leaf breaker

The second task - a question about "The Last Leaf" - "Why did the artist fail to draw a drawing?"

Sergey Kozlov

Autumn

dry and light
this autumn
Cornflowers.
Sleep in a haystack
in your home,
will not open to anyone.
only a lamb
on a winter evening
leave the house to meet

this autumn
The fox is not happy
this autumn
Leaf fall
Red, fiery tail
The fox's house sweeps over.

and leaves, leaves are spinning,
as if
foxes,
foxes,
foxes.
Even the old fox
amazed:
"wonders!
where is the fox?
where is the leaf? -
Ears, tails, eyes! "

this autumn
viburnum bush
Caught fire and burns,
Lit up and burn-
Does not say anything.
Without saying anything
It will burn out until January.
Blaze the fire redder-
The berries will be tastier!

And the hare this autumn
Threw mom and dad
Threw my grandmother
I left my grandfather
I ate four trees.
And the rumor spread around
That four more to eat.

This autumn, St. John's wort,
We say goodbye to you.
Though small and unsightly,
I loved your bitter leaf.

And wonderful Zabolotsky - "September"

Big peas are pouring rain,

The wind is torn, and the distance is unclean.

Ruffled poplar is closing

Silver seamy side of the sheet.

But look: through the hole of the cloud,

Like through an arch of stone slabs

Into this kingdom of fog and darkness

The first ray, breaking through, flies.

It means that the distance is not forever curtained

Clouds, and, therefore, not in vain,

Like a girl, flashing, a nut

It shone at the end of September.

Now, painter, grab

Brush by brush, and on canvas

Golden like fire and pomegranate

Draw this girl for me.

Draw, like a tree, unsteady

A young princess in a crown

With a restlessly sliding smile

On a tear-stained young face.

We can talk about the last stanza for a long, long time: about why exactly such details of the description-personification are used. Something like this. Here.

Autumn in the park

Autumn is walking in our park,
Autumn gives gifts to everyone:
Pink apron - aspen,
Red beads - mountain ash,
Yellow umbrella - to poplars,
Autumn gives us fruits.

1st of September

There is a huge bouquet walking along the road.
In shoes - legs,
From above - takes.
Walking to school
Flower bouquets -
Each
By the school year
Ready.

Autumn,
autumn…
The sun
It's damp in the clouds -
Even at noon it shines
Dull and timid.
From the cold grove
In field,
to the path
Blown out by a hare -
The first
Snowflake.

In the autumn garden
By the path
Aspen claps
In the palms.
That's why
That week
Her palms
Blushed.

September

In September, in September
Grass in silver in the morning
Like silver saucers
Puddles glisten at dawn.

The garden, like an empty house, will be thrown open.
The air smells like apples.

Into the silence
Intertwined
The cobwebs are gray.

I walk, sad alone:
Autumn is near somewhere.
With a yellow leaf in the river
Summer has sunk.

I throw a circle to him -
Your last wreath.
Only summer cannot be saved
If the day is autumn.

In the morning the sky was gloomy

In the morning the sky was gloomy
And everything seemed dull.
Autumn loves to cry
To drip like rain on the ground.
Loves rustling leaves
And pluck them from the trees.

Rain, rain, drip and drop!

Rain, rain, drip and drop!
You wouldn't drip on dad
You wouldn't drip on mom -
It would be better to come to us:
For dads it is damp, for moms it is dirty
You and I are wonderful!

Autumn on the fox

See it all: in all its glory
Autumn rushes on the fox.
And where the fox flaps its tail
Everything turns red in place:
Will paint with a red brush
She is grass and leaves.
And the bushes will turn red
Paths, streets, bridges,
Houses and late flowers ...
Look: you are not red-headed either!

A hedgehog curled under a bush
Wet and prickly.
And the rain is mowing over the forest,
Dispelling the clouds.
Dressed in red leaves
The stump smiles.
Stood dry all summer
And now I'm soaked through and through.

Leaves are falling, falling.
Leaf fall in our garden ...
Yellow, red leaves
They wind in the wind, fly.

Birds fly south
Geese, rooks, cranes.
This is the last flock
Flapping its wings in the distance.

Let's take a basket in our hands,
Let's go to the forest for mushrooms,
Hemp and paths smell
Delicious autumn mushroom.

I decided to say goodbye to the summer

I decided to say goodbye to the summer,
The river suddenly became cloudy,
Birds became a friendly flock
Going on vacation.
And so that everything becomes like in a fairy tale,
Giving beauty to the earth,
Year poured colors into autumn
Out of the boxes of September!

Autumn has come

Autumn has come,
Our garden has turned yellow.
Leaves on a birch
They burn with gold.
Do not hear funny
Songs of the nightingale.
The birds flew away
To the distant lands.

Summer is over

Summer, giving away warmth,
Bored and gone.
The wind tore off the leaves
And scattered it under my feet.
The sun hid behind the clouds
The gray day is boring with rain.
And for some reason crying, crying -
That's what a misfortune.
Let's ask him.
The rain will answer: - It's just autumn ...

Summer flies away

It suddenly became twice as light,
The yard is like in the sun.
This dress is golden
On the shoulders of a birch ...
In the morning we go to the yard -
Leaves are raining down
Rustle underfoot
And they fly, fly, fly ...
Cobwebs fly by
With spiders in the middle.
And high from the ground
The cranes flew by.
Everyone is flying! It must be
Our summer is flying away.

Leaf fall

Fallen leaves
The conversation is barely audible:
- We are from the maples ...
- We are from the apple trees ...
- We are with cherries ...
- From the aspen ...
- From the bird cherry ...
- From the oak ...
- From the birch ...
Everywhere leaf fall:
On the verge of frost!

Here comes autumn

Here is autumn in front of us:
The field is compressed, the meadow is mown.
And shoals over the forest
The geese are heading south.
Behind the barn a stack of straw
And rowan in the yard
From the window of my home
Visible to the rural kids.
Frequent rain rings through the window.
The wind blowing everywhere
Drives the golden leaves
On silver water.

Autumn looked into the garden -
The birds flew away.
Outside the window in the morning rustling
Yellow blizzards.
The first ice under your feet
Crumbles, breaks.
The sparrow in the garden will sigh
And to sing -
Shy.

Trees in autumn

The birches have unraveled their braids,
The maples clapped their hands
Cold winds came
And the poplars flooded.
Willows drooped by the pond,
The aspens trembled
Oaks, always huge
As if less steel.
Everything calmed down, shrunken,
Went down, turned yellow.
Only a Christmas tree that comes in handy
She got prettier by winter.

Hazel turned yellow and maples blushed,
In the purple of autumn, only green oak.
Autumn comforts:
- Do not regret the summer!
Look - the grove is dressed in gold!

Golden autumn

Early autumn is a great time. The heat subsides, and the scorching sun is no longer so hot the air. The day is still long. A light warm breeze is blowing. Silk butterflies fly over the ground, rejoicing in the flowers that have not yet wilted. The Fall Poems describe how the leaves slowly begin to turn yellow, redden, and dry out. Some are still green. Falling from the trees, they are freely carried by the breeze and cover the ground with a lush multi-colored carpet. The autumn forest turns into an extraordinary fairy tale. The lines immerse children in colorful pictures of a beautiful golden autumn. Such a time brings joy and happiness to little lovers of long walks. Collecting beautiful bouquets of yellow carved leaves of maple, oak, aspen, kids bring them home as pleasant gifts for mothers and grandmothers. Extraordinary fun - going out into the garden, swim in the rustle of leaves blown into large yellow heaps. The rains in the poems pour abundant water on the ground, preparing it for the cold weather and washing away the familiar summer landscapes.

Autumn melancholy

The late autumn comes. Summer heat is leaving. The days are getting shorter. Flocks of migratory birds fly away to the southern regions. Winter is coming. In the quatrains, sadness about the impending cold and goodbye to the cheerful sunny months is comparable to an irresistible melancholy that torments the soul. Like a farewell to a good old friend or a memory of beautiful moments gone by, the rhyme in some verses conveys gray sad pictures to the reader. Previously green, but now withered leaves, dark gray clouds, endlessly obscuring the firmament. Only occasionally a dull autumn sun shines through in a muddy circle. Nothing heats up anymore, the cold wind slowly, as if taking out everything from the inside, penetrates the air. This is how sad poems about autumn describe their impressions of nature. The reader will be able to completely merge with calm melancholy, as if with a tired weight that plunges nature into a long winter dream. Often in such quatrains, the poet expresses the excitement and uncertainty that characterize his homeland. She, too, seems to fall asleep, the former beauty disappears, giving way to gray everyday life, and only doom and uncertainty lie ahead. Such lines call to reflect on the civic importance of moral values, love and simple human faith.

Autumn is the most beautiful time of the year described by poets. It gives them a storm of emotions that give rise to true inspiration. True love, long expectations and losses are mixed in the lines. The sincerity that is embedded in the works is passed on to the reading children. They carry through themselves the whole stream of feelings, which instills in them a special spiritual harmony and richness of the inner world. Poems about autumn allow kids to imagine the impermanence of the world around them, the changes of which must be accepted and readily adapted to them.

POEMS ABOUT AUTUMN

Autumn golden
A. Yaranova

Autumn golden
Walks along the paths.
At her knives
Yellow boots.

On her dress
Colored leaves,
And in her basket
There are forest mushrooms.

Summer flies away
E. Trutneva

Has it suddenly become twice as light?
The yard is like in the sun
This dress is golden
Have a birch on the shoulders.

Near viburnum and mountain ash
Blackbirds hover in flocks.
Dahlias are proud of their beauty under the window.

And creaks in the bushes all evening
Invisible Jumper.
It is you, the grasshopper violinist,
Two springs instead of legs?

In the morning we go to the yard -
Leaves are raining down
Rustle underfoot
And they fly, fly, fly ...

Cobwebs fly by
With spiders in the middle.
And high from the ground
The cranes flew by.

Everything flies! It must be
Our pet is flying away!

Autumn
V. Avdienko

Autumn walks along the path
I wet my legs in the puddles.
It rains
And there is no gap.
The summer was lost somewhere.

Autumn is walking
Autumn wanders.
Wind from maple leaves
I dropped it.

A new rug under your feet
Yellow-pink -
Maple.

E. Trutneva

In the morning we go to the yard
Leaves are raining down
Rustle underfoot
And they fly, they fly, they fly.

V. Mirovich

All the trees have flown
Only spruce grows green,
The forests have become bare.
Day and night it rains
Mud and puddles at the gate.

Herringbone
O. Vysotskaya

Not a leaf, not a blade of grass!
Our garden has become quiet.
And birches and aspens
Boring ones stand.

Only one Christmas tree
Cheerful and green.
Apparently, she is not afraid of frost,
She is evidently brave!

Autumn
Z. Fedorovskaya

Autumn at the edge of the paint bred,
I gently passed through the foliage with a brush:
Hazel turned yellow and maples blushed,
In autumn purple only green oak.
Autumn comforts:
-Do not feel sorry for the summer!
Look - the grove is dressed in gold!

***
A. Pushkin

Already the sky was breathing in autumn,
Less often the sun shone
The day was getting shorter
Mysterious forest canopy
With a sad noise she was naked,
Fog fell on the fields,
Noisy caravan geese
Stretched towards the south: approached
Quite a boring time;
It was November already at the yard ...

Autumn
V. Avdienko

Autumn walks along the path
I wet my legs in the puddles.
It rains
And there is no gap.
The summer was lost somewhere.

Autumn is walking
Autumn wanders.
Wind from maple leaves
I dropped it.

A new rug under your feet
Yellow-pink -
Maple.

***
A. Pleshcheev

Boring picture!
Endless clouds
The rain is pouring down
Puddles by the porch

Stunted rowan
It gets wet under the window;
Looking at the village
A gray spot.

That you are early to visit
Autumn has come to us?
The heart also asks
Light and warmth!

***
A.S. Pushkin

It's a sad time! Charm of the eyes!
Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me -
I love the lush wilting of nature,
The forests clad in crimson and gold,
There is noise and fresh breath in their canopy,
And the heavens are covered with a wavy mist,
And a rare sunbeam, and the first frosts,
And distant gray winter threats.

***
A. N. Pleshcheev

Autumn has come
The flowers have dried up
And they look sadly
Bare bushes.
Withers and turns yellow
Grass in the meadows.
Only turns green
Winter in the fields.

A cloud covers the sky
The sun doesn't shine.
The wind howls in the field
The rain is drizzling.
The waters rustled
Fast stream.
The birds flew away
To warm lands.

Autumn
A. N. Maikov

Covers the golden leaf
Wet ground in the forest ...
I boldly trample with my foot
The beauty of the spring forest.

Cheeks burn from the cold:
Anyway in the forest I run,
Hear the branches crack
Rake the leaves with your foot!

I have no previous joys here!
The forest has taken away a secret from itself:
The last nut is plucked
The last flower is plucked;

The moss is not raised, not exploded
A pile of curly milk mushrooms;
Does not hang around the stump
Purple lingonberry tassels;

Long on the leaves lies
The nights are frosty, and through the forest
Somehow looks cold
Clarity of transparent skies ...

Autumn
K. Balmont

Lingonberry ripens,
The days got colder
And from the bird cry
The heart is only sadder.

Flocks of birds fly away
Away, beyond the blue sea,
All the trees shine
In a multi-colored headdress.

The sun laughs less often.
There is no incense in the flowers.
Autumn will wake up soon
And she will cry sleepily.

Bunny
A. Blok

Little bunny
In a damp hollow
Before the eyes amused
White flowers ...

We burst into tears in the fall
Thin blade of grass
Paws are coming
On yellow leaves.

Gloomy, rainy
Autumn has come,
All the cabbage was removed
There is nothing to steal.

Poor bunny jumping
Near wet pines
Scary in the paws of the wolf
Gray get ...

Thinks about summer
Presses the ears
He looks sideways at the sky -
You can't see the sky ...

Only it would be warmer
If only drier ...
Very unpleasant
Step on the water!

"Autumn"
Yu. Kapustina

In a golden carriage
What's the game with the horse,
Autumn galloped
Through forests and fields.
Kind sorceress
I changed everything
Bright yellow
Decorated the earth.
From the sky a sleepy month
Miraculously surprised
Everything sparkles around
Everything shimmers.

"Golden Rain"
M. Lesovaya

The leaves were filled with the sun.
The leaves are soaked in the sun.
They got poured, got heavy,
Flowed and flew
Rustled through the bushes
Rode over the knots.
The wind is spinning gold
Rustling like a golden rain!

"Autumn"
A. Plescheeva

Autumn has come.
The flowers have dried up
And they look sadly
Bare bushes.
Withers and turns yellow
Grass in the meadows
Only turns green
Winter in the fields.
A cloud covers the sky
The sun does not shine;
The wind howls in the field;
The rain is drizzling.
The waters rustled
Fast brook
The birds flew away
To warm lands.

The aspen freezes
Trembling in the wind ...
Give the aspen
Coats and boots.
Gotta keep warm
Poor aspen.

"Autumn"
E. Intulov

A crow in the sky screams: -Kar-r!
There is a fire in the forest, a fire in the forest!
And it was very simple:
Autumn settled in it.