Poem by Nekrasov N.A. "Railway

Glorious autumn

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous

The air invigorates tired forces;

The ice is fragile on the icy river

As if melting sugar lies;

Near the forest, as in a soft bed,

You can sleep - peace and space!

The leaves have not faded yet,

Yellow and fresh lie like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! frosty nights,

Clear, quiet days...

There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi

And moss swamps, and stumps -

All is well under the moonlight,

Everywhere I recognize my dear Rus' ...

I quickly fly along cast-iron rails,

I think my mind...

N. Nekrasov

Golden autumn

Autumn. Fairy tale,

All open for review.

clearings of forest roads,

Looking into the lakes

Like in an art exhibition:

Halls, halls, halls, halls

Elm, ash, aspen

Unprecedented in gilding.

Linden hoop gold -

Like a crown on a newlywed.

Birch face - under the veil

Wedding and transparent.

buried earth

Under foliage in ditches, pits.

In the yellow maples of the wing,

As if in gilded frames.

Where are the trees in September

At dawn they stand in pairs,

And sunset on their bark

Leaves an amber trail.

Where you can not step into the ravine,

So that everyone does not know:

So raging that not a step

A tree leaf underfoot.

Where it sounds at the end of the alleys

Echoes at the steep slope

And dawn cherry glue

Freezes in the form of a clot.

Autumn. ancient corner

Old books, clothes, weapons,

Where is the treasure catalog

Flips through the cold.

B. Pasternak

Plums fall in the garden

A noble treat for wasps...

Yellow leaf bathed in the pond

And welcomes early autumn.

He pretended to be a ship

The wind of wandering shook him.

So we'll follow him

To piers unknown in life.

And we already know by heart:

In a year there will be a new summer.

Why the universal sadness

In every line in the poetry of poets?

Is it because the traces on the dew

Will the showers wash away and the winters get cold?

Is it because the moments are all

Fleeting and unique?

L. Kuznetsova

"Autumn. Silence in the dacha village..."

Autumn. Silence in the dacha village,

And desert-voiced on earth.

Gossamer in transparent air

Cold as a crack in glass.

Through the sandy pink pines

The roof is bluish with a cockerel;

In a light haze, a velvet sun -

Like a peach touched with fluff.

At sunset, magnificent, but not sharp,

The clouds are waiting for something, frozen;

Holding hands, they shine

The last two, the most golden ones;

Both turn their faces to the sun

Both fade from one end;

The older one carries the feather of the firebird,

The youngest is a fluff of a fire-chick.

N. Matveeva

Accommodation

October!.. The trees are waiting for snow,

The floods of the rivers have subsided locked up ...

I chose a stack for myself for the night

Where the night found me on the way.

Like fireflies in a dormant swamp,

The stars trembled in the black sky;

The earth, chilled in its night flight,

In a dream, she cuddled up to me tenderly.

And I, covering my feet with dry straw

And putting a gun under his head,

He warmed himself and soon a little

He warmed a huge - her ...

The dawn flowed into the breaks of lead clouds,

For a whole day, for many, many years

The earth gave me the sun again,

From the dark night

Into the dawn!

We offer you beautiful autumn poems by N. Nekrasov. Each of us from childhood knows well Nekrasov's poems about autumn while others read them to their children and grandchildren. These poems are included in school curriculum for different classes.
Short Nekrasov help not only to develop speech and memory, but also to get acquainted with beautiful time year autumn.

Nikolai Nekrasov - Autumn

Before - a village holiday,
Today - autumn is hungry;
There is no end to women's sadness,
Not for beer and wine.
Since Sunday, the mail is delirious
Our Orthodox people
On Saturdays he goes to the city,
Walks, asks, learns:
Who is killed, who is wounded in the summer,
Who is missing, who is found?
For some infirmaries
Were the survivors taken away?
Is it so creepy! vault of heaven
Dark at noon, as in the night;
Do not sit in a cramped house,
Do not lay on the stove.
Satisfied, warmed up, thank God,
Just to sleep! No you don't sleep
So it pulls on the road
You won't get away with anything.
And the striker is dear to us!
So they carry a lot of crippled
What is behind them on the hillock,
How do the wagons go by?
Human moans
Clearly heard at dawn.

Nikolay Nekrasov - Verse Glorious Autumn

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
The ice is fragile on the icy river
As if melting sugar lies;

Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not faded yet,
Yellow and fresh lie like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! frosty nights,
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi
And moss swamps, and stumps -

All is well under the moonlight
Everywhere I recognize my dear Rus' ...
I quickly fly along cast-iron rails,
I think my mind...

Nikolay Nekrasov - Uncompressed band

Late fall. The rooks flew away
The forest is bare, the fields are empty,

Only one strip is not compressed ...
sad thought she suggests.

It seems that the ears whisper to each other:
"It's boring for us to listen to the autumn blizzard,

It's boring to bend down to the ground,
Fat grains bathed in dust!

We are being ruined by the villages every night
Every flying gluttonous bird,

The hare tramples us, and the storm beats us...
Where is our plowman? what else is waiting for?

Or are we born worse than others?
Or unfriendly blossomed-eared?

No! we are no worse than others - and for a long time
Grain has been poured and ripened in us.

Not for the same he plowed and sowed
So that the autumn wind will dispel us? .. "

The wind brings them a sad answer:
- Your plowman has no urine.

He knew why he plowed and sowed,
Yes, he started the work beyond his strength.

Poor poor fellow - does not eat or drink,
The worm sucks his sick heart,

The hands that brought these furrows,
They dried up to a chip, hung like whips.

Like on a plow, leaning on your hand,
The plowman thoughtfully walked in a lane.

Nekrasov poems about autumn are perfect for schoolchildren in grades 1,2,3,4,5,6,7 and for children 3,4,5,6,7,8,9,10 years old.

Vania(in a coachman's coat).
Dad! who built this road?

daddy(in a coat with a red lining),
Count Pyotr Andreyevich Kleinmichel, my dear!

Conversation in the car

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
The ice is fragile on the icy river
As if melting sugar lies;

Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not faded yet,
Yellow and fresh lie like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! frosty nights,
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi
And moss swamps, and stumps -

All is well under the moonlight
Everywhere I recognize my dear Rus' ...
I quickly fly along cast-iron rails,
I think my mind...

Good papa! Why in charm
Keep Vanya smart?
You let me in the moonlight
Show him the truth.

This work, Vanya, was terribly huge
Not on the shoulder alone!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is his name.

He leads armies; at sea by ships
Rules; drives people to the artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind the shoulders
Stonecutters, weavers.

He drove the masses of the people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle,
Calling to life these barren wilds,
The coffin was found here.

Straight path: the mounds are narrow,
Poles, rails, bridges.
And on the sides, all the bones are Russian ...
How many of them! Vanya, do you know?

Chu! terrible exclamations were heard!
Stomp and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran over the frosty glass...
What's there? Crowd of the Dead!

They overtake the cast-iron road,
Then the sides run.
Do you hear the singing? .. "On this moonlit night
We love to see our work!

We tore ourselves under the heat, under the cold,
With an eternally bent back,
Lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
Were cold and wet, sick with scurvy.

We were robbed by literate foremen,
The bosses were crushed, the need was crushing ...
We have endured everything, God's warriors,
Peaceful children of labor!

Brothers! You are reaping our fruits!
We are destined to rot in the earth ...
Do you all remember us, the poor, with kindness
Or have you forgotten for a long time? .. "

Do not be horrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from mother Volga, from Oka,
From different parts of the great state -
These are all your brothers - men!

It's a shame to be shy, to close with a glove,
You are no longer small! .. Russian hair,
You see, he is standing, exhausted by a fever,
Tall sick Belarusian:

Lips bloodless, eyelids fallen,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Forever knee-deep in water
The legs are swollen; tangle in hair;

I am pitting my chest, which is diligently on the spade
From day to day leaned all century ...
You look at him, Vanya, carefully:
It was difficult for a man to get his bread!

Didn't straighten his hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically rusty shovel
Frozen ground hammering!

This noble habit of work
It would not be bad for us to adopt with you ...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect the man.

Do not be shy for the dear homeland ...
The Russian people carried enough
Carried out this railroad -
Will endure whatever the Lord sends!

Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will pave the way for himself with his chest.
The only pity is to live in this beautiful time
You won't have to, neither me nor you.

At this moment the whistle is deafening
He squealed - the crowd of the dead disappeared!
"I saw, dad, I'm an amazing dream, -
Vanya said - five thousand men,

Russian tribes and breeds representatives
Suddenly appeared - and He he told me:
"Here they are - our road builders! .."
The general laughed!

“I was recently in the walls of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw Saint Stephen in Vienna,
Well… did the people create all this?

Excuse me this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a bit wild.
Or for you Apollo Belvedere
Worse than an oven pot?

Here are your people - these terms and baths,
A miracle of art - he pulled everything away! ”-
“I’m not talking for you, but for Vanya…”
But the general did not object:

"Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! a wild crowd of drunkards! ..
However, it's time to take care of Vanyusha;

You know, the spectacle of death, sadness
It is a sin to revolt a child's heart.
Would you show the child now
The bright side…

Happy to show!
Listen, my dear: fatal works
It's over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working people

Gathered in a close crowd at the office ...
They scratched their heads hard:
Each contractor must remain,
Truant days have become a penny!

Everything was entered by ten's men in a book -
Did he take a bath, was the patient lying:
“Maybe there is now a surplus here,
Yes, come on! .. ”They waved their hands ...

In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Fat, squat, red as copper,
A contractor is walking along the line on a holiday,
He goes to see his work.

The idle people make way dignifiedly...
Sweat wipes the merchant from the face
And he says, akimbo pictorially:
“Okay… not something O… well done A!.. well done A!..

With God, now home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to workers
AND - donate arrears!..»

Someone cheered. Picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer... Look:
With a song, the foremen rolled a barrel ...
Here even the lazy could not resist!

Unharnessed the people of the horses - and the merchant
With a cry of "Hurrah!" sped along the road...
Seems hard to please the picture
Draw, General?

Analysis of the poem "Railway" by Nekrasov

The vast majority of Nekrasov's work is devoted to the simple Russian people, describing their troubles and suffering. He believed that a true poet should not stray from reality into romantic illusions. Poem " Railway» — a prime example poet's civic lyrics. It was written in 1864 and is dedicated to the construction of the Nikolaev railway (1843-1851).

The railway between St. Petersburg and Moscow has become a grandiose project. It significantly raised the authority of Russia, reduced the gap from the developed European countries.

At the same time, the construction was carried out by backward methods. The labor of the state and serfs was actually slave labor. The state did not take into account the victims, many people died in hard physical work in unbearable conditions.

The introduction to the work is the subtle irony of Nekrasov. The general calls the builder of the railway not a disenfranchised mass of workers, but Count Kleinmichel, who became famous for his cruelty.

The first part of the poem - a lyrical description beautiful view that opens before the eyes of the passengers of the train. Nekrasov lovingly depicts the landscape of "dear Rus'". In the second part there is a drastic change. The narrator shows the general's son a terrible picture of the construction of the railway, which high society prefers not to see. Behind the movement to progress are thousands peasant lives. From all over the vast Rus', the peasants were gathered here by the "real king" - hunger. Titanic labor, like many large-scale Russian projects, is literally covered with the bones of people.

The third part is the opinion of a self-confident general, symbolizing the stupidity and narrow-mindedness of high society. He believes that illiterate and always drunk men have no value. Only the highest creations of human art are important. In this thought, opponents of Nekrasov's views on the role of the creator in the life of society are easily guessed.

At the General's request, the narrator shows Vanya the "bright side" of construction. The work is finished, the dead are buried, it's time to take stock. Russia proves to the world its progressive development. The emperor and high society triumph. The heads of construction sites and merchants received significant profits. The workers were rewarded with... a barrel of wine and forgiveness of accumulated fines. A timid exclamation of "Hurrah!" taken over by the crowd.

The picture of the general final rejoicing is incredibly bitter and sad. long-suffering Russian people deceived again. The symbolic price of a grandiose construction project (a third of the annual budget Russian Empire), which claimed thousands of lives, was expressed for ordinary workers in a barrel of vodka. They cannot appreciate the true value of their work, and therefore are grateful and happy.

Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous
The air invigorates tired forces;
The ice is fragile on the icy river
As if melting sugar lies;

Near the forest, as in a soft bed,
You can sleep - peace and space!
The leaves have not faded yet,
Yellow and fresh lie like a carpet.

Glorious autumn! frosty nights,
Clear, quiet days...
There is no ugliness in nature! And kochi
And moss swamps, and stumps -

All is well under the moonlight
Everywhere I recognize my dear Rus' ...
I quickly fly along cast-iron rails,
I think my mind...

Good papa! Why in charm
Keep Vanya smart?
You let me in the moonlight
Show him the truth.

This work, Vanya, was terribly huge -
Not on the shoulder alone!
There is a king in the world: this king is merciless,
Hunger is his name.

He leads armies; at sea by ships
Rules; drives people to the artel,
Walks behind the plow, stands behind the shoulders
Stonecutters, weavers.

He drove the masses of the people here.
Many are in a terrible struggle,
In life calling these barren wilds,
The coffin was found here.

Straight path: the mounds are narrow,
Poles, rails, bridges.
And on the sides, all the bones are Russian ...
How many of them! Vanya, do you know?

Choo, terrible exclamations were heard!
Stomp and gnashing of teeth;
A shadow ran over the frosty glass...
What's there? Crowd of the Dead!

They overtake the cast-iron road,
Then the sides run.
Do you hear singing? ... "On this moonlit night,
We love to see our work!

We tore ourselves under the heat, under the cold,
With an eternally bent back,
Lived in dugouts, fought hunger,
Were cold and wet, sick with scurvy.

We were robbed by literate foremen,
The bosses were crushed, the need was crushing ...
We endured everything, God's warriors,
Peaceful children of labor!

Brothers! you are reaping our fruits!
We are destined to rot in the earth ...
Do you all remember us, the poor, with kindness
Or has it been forgotten?...

Do not be horrified by their wild singing!
From Volkhov, from mother Volga, from Oka,
From different parts of the great state -
This is all! your brothers are men!

It's a shame to be shy, to close with a glove,
You are no longer small! .. Russian hair,
You see, he is standing, exhausted by a fever,
Tall, sick Belarusian:

Lips bloodless, eyelids fallen,
Ulcers on skinny arms
Forever knee-deep in water
The legs are swollen; tangle in hair;

I am pitting my chest, which is diligently on the spade
From day to day leaned all century ...
You look at him, Vanya, carefully:
It was difficult for a man to get his bread!

Didn't straighten his hunchbacked back
He is still: stupidly silent
And mechanically rusty shovel
Frozen ground hammering!

This noble habit of work
We would not be bad to adopt with you ...
Bless the work of the people
And learn to respect the man.

Do not be shy for the dear homeland ...
The Russian people carried enough
Carried out this railroad -
Will endure whatever the Lord sends!

Will endure everything - and wide, clear
He will pave the way for himself with his chest.
The only pity is to live in this beautiful time
You won't have to, neither me nor you.

At this moment the whistle is deafening
He squealed - the crowd of the dead disappeared!
"I saw, dad, I'm an amazing dream, -
Vanya said - five thousand men,

Russian tribes and breeds representatives
Suddenly they appeared - and he said to me:
"Here they are - our road builders! ..""
The general laughed!

"I was recently in the walls of the Vatican,
I wandered around the Colosseum for two nights,
I saw Saint Stephen in Vienna,
Well... did the people create all this?

Excuse me this impudent laugh,
Your logic is a bit wild.
Or for you Apollo Belvedere
Worse than an oven pot?

Here are your people - these terms and baths,
A miracle of art - he pulled everything away!
- "I'm not talking for you, but for Vanya ..."
But the general did not object:

"Your Slav, Anglo-Saxon and German
Do not create - destroy the master,
Barbarians! a wild crowd of drunkards! ..
However, it's time to take care of Vanyusha;

You know, the spectacle of death, sadness
It is a sin to revolt a child's heart.
Would you show the child now
light side..."

- Glad to show you!
Listen, my dear: fatal works
It's over - the German is already laying the rails.
The dead are buried in the ground; sick
Hidden in dugouts; working people

Gathered in a close crowd at the office ...
They scratched their heads hard:
Each contractor must remain,
Truant days have become a penny!

Everything was entered by ten's men in a book -
Whether he took a bath, whether the patient was lying.
"Maybe there's too much here now,
Yes, you go! .. "- they waved their hands ...

In a blue caftan - a venerable meadowsweet,
Fat, squat, red as copper,
A contractor is walking along the line on a holiday,
He goes to see his work.

The idle people make way decorously...
Sweat wipes the merchant from the face
And he says, akimbo pictorially:
"Okay... something... well done!... well done!...

With God, now home - congratulations!
(Hats off - if I say!)
I expose a barrel of wine to workers
And - I give arrears ... "

Someone "cheers" shouted, picked up
Louder, friendlier, longer... Look:
With a song, the foremen rolled a barrel ...
Here even the lazy could not resist!

Unharnessed the people of the horses - and the merchant
With a shout of "Hurrah" rushed along the road ...
Seems hard to please the picture
Draw, General?

Could you help me make a plan based on the poem by Nekrasov Railway