It's a beautiful time to enchant the eyes. Scenario of the autumn ball "Autumn time, the charm of the eyes!"

1 presenter.
It's a sad time! Ouch charm!
I am pleased with your farewell beauty.
I love the lush decay of nature,
Forests dressed in scarlet and gold... -
This is how Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin once expressed his admiration for autumn nature. And I wanted to express my feelings in the words of the great poet.
2 presenter. And I would like to continue with the words of another famous Russian writer and poet Ivan Alekseevich Bunin:
The forest is like a painted tower,
Lilac, gold, crimson,
A cheerful, motley wall
Standing above a bright clearing.
Birch trees with yellow carving
Glisten in the blue azure,
Like towers, the fir trees are darkening,
And between the maples they turn blue
Here and there through the foliage
Clearances in the sky, like a window.
The forest smells of oak and pine,
Over the summer it dried out from the sun,
And autumn is a quiet widow
He enters his colorful mansion.
1 presenter. Autumn... The golden time of the year, striking with the richness of flowers, fruits, and a fantastic combination of colors: from bright, eye-catching to blurry-transparent halftones.
2 presenter. But it’s true, look around, take a closer look: the foliage sparkles like forged gold, multi-colored lanterns of asters and chrysanthemums flash brightly, rowan berries freeze on the trees with droplets of blood, and the bottomless autumn sky surprises with the abundance and brightness of the stars scattered across it.
1 presenter. Sad October holds out its business card, where the lines of the brilliant Russian poet are written in colorless ink of fog:
October has already arrived - the grove is already shaking off
The last leaves from their naked branches;
The autumn cold has arrived - the road is freezing.
………………………………………………..
But the pond has already frozen...
2 presenter. It’s autumn outside the windows now... We call it differently: cold, golden, generous, rainy, sad... But, be that as it may, autumn is a wonderful time of year, it’s the time of harvesting, summing up the results of field work, it’s the beginning of studies in school, this is preparation for a long and cold winter... And no matter how it is outside: cold or warm - the native land is always beautiful, attractive, charming! And popular wisdom says: “Autumn is sad, but life is fun.” So let the beautiful sounds sound on this October day, let the river of uncontrollable cheerful laughter flow, your legs know no fatigue, let your fun have no end!
All presenters. We are opening our holiday “Autumn Ball”.
1 presenter. Now let's take an oath for the participants of the "Autumn Ball".
All. We swear!
2 presenter. Have fun from the heart!
All. We swear!
1 presenter. Dance until you drop!
All. We swear!
2 presenter. Laugh and joke!
All. We swear!
1 presenter. Participate and win in all competitions.
All. We swear!
2 presenter. Share the joy of victory and the prizes received with friends.
All. We swear! We swear! We swear!
1 presenter. We talked for a long time, but completely forgot that we had to dance at the ball.
They want to present their dances to us...
2 presenter. And now we are starting the competition.
1 competition - literary. Now the lines of Russian poets will be heard, and you name their authors.
a) Glorious autumn! Healthy, vigorous air
Invigorates tired forces,
Fragile ice on the icy river,
It lies like melting sugar.
Near the forest, like in a soft bed,
You can get a good night's sleep - peace and space! -
The leaves have not yet faded,
Yellow and fresh, they lie like a carpet. (N.A. Nekrasov)

B) There is in the initial autumn
A short but wonderful time -
The whole day is like crystal,
And the evenings are radiant... (F.I. Tyutchev)

B) The sky was already breathing in autumn,
The sun shone less often,
The day was getting shorter
Mysterious forest canopy
With a sad noise she was naked... (A.S. Pushkin)

D) Autumn. Our whole poor garden is crumbling,
Yellowed leaves are flying in the wind.
They only show off in the distance, there, at the bottom of the valleys,
Bright red brushes of withering rowan trees... (A.K. Tolstoy)
1 presenter. And now the competition program is interrupted. Let's see...
2 presenter. Dear guests, please listen to a short announcement. In parallel with our competition program, a competition for the title of King and Queen of the “Autumn Ball” is taking place. Each of you has pieces of paper with numbers. Each of those present can go to the basket and write down the number of the person they consider a contender for this title.
1 presenter. It's time to take a break from dancing. That's why we have a game.
2 presenter. You all probably love apples. I hope our members do too.
Game "Who can eat the apples faster."
The apples are tied on a rope and the participants' task is to eat the apple without their hands.
1 presenter. And now we invite everyone to watch the dance...
2 presenter. And now we invite 2 representatives from each group. Everyone knows how tasty and healthy potatoes are. Very often we all have to both plant it and clean it up. I suggest that the next participants in the game collect the harvest. The game is called "Collect Potatoes".
Conditions of the competition: a lot of potatoes are scattered on the floor, and blindfolded participants must quickly collect the crop in one minute. The winner is the one who collects the most potatoes in the bucket.

1 presenter. We remind you that the competition for the title of King and Queen continues.
Hurry up to make your choice of King and Queen. Since the competition program is coming to an end
2 presenter. And now the last competition of our ball. Two participants from each group are invited. Competition "Wreath of leaves".
1 presenter. And while the participants are working on the wreaths, we offer you a performance...
2 presenter. They say that autumn is sadness, continuous rains, cloudy weather... Don't believe it, friends! Autumn is beautiful and attractive in its own way. It brings generosity to the soul, warmth from human communication to the heart, and brings unique beauty into our lives!
1 presenter. It is announced who became the King and Queen of the ball. (They wear wreaths of leaves)
2 presenter. Autumn has fully come into its own today, and we will celebrate its arrival. We thank this autumn for bringing us all together for the “Autumn Ball”. Winter, spring, summer are ahead... And then autumn again. How many more of them there will be in our lives! We hope that the golden lights of the “Autumn Ball” holiday will be lit for all of us at our school more than once. See you again!

Why doesn’t my mind then enter into my slumber?

Derzhavin.

October has already arrived - the grove is already shaking off
The last leaves from their naked branches;
The autumn chill has blown in - the road is freezing.
The stream still runs babbling behind the mill,
But the pond was already frozen; my neighbor is in a hurry
To the departing fields with my desire,
And the winter ones suffer from mad fun,
And the barking of dogs wakes up the sleeping oak forests.

Now is my time: I don’t like spring;
The thaw is boring to me; stench, dirt - in the spring I am sick;
The blood is fermenting; feelings and mind are constrained by melancholy.
I'm happier in the harsh winter
I love her snow; in the presence of the moon
How easy the running of a sleigh with a friend is fast and free,
When under the sable, warm and fresh,
She shakes your hand, glowing and trembling!

How fun it is to put sharp iron on your feet,
Slide along the mirror of standing, smooth rivers!
And the brilliant worries of the winter holidays?..
But you also need to know honor; six months of snow and snow,
After all, this is finally true for the inhabitant of the den,
The bear will get bored. You can't take a whole century
We'll ride in a sleigh with the young Armids
Or sour at the stoves behind double glass.

Oh, summer is red! I would love you
If only it weren't for the heat, the dust, the mosquitoes, and the flies.
You, ruining all your spiritual abilities,
You torture us; like the fields we suffer from drought;
Just to get something to drink and refresh yourself -
We have no other thought, and it’s a pity for the old woman’s winter,
And, having seen her off with pancakes and wine,
We are celebrating her funeral with ice cream and ice.

The days of late autumn are usually scolded,
But she is sweet to me, dear reader,
Quiet beauty, shining humbly.
So unloved child in the family
It attracts me to itself. To tell you frankly,
Of the annual times, I am glad only for her,
There is a lot of good in her; a lover is not vain,
I found something in her like a wayward dream.

How to explain this? I like her
Like you probably are a consumptive maiden
Sometimes I like it. Condemned to death
The poor thing bows down without a murmur, without anger.
A smile is visible on faded lips;
She does not hear the gaping of the grave abyss;
There is still a crimson color playing on the face.
She is still alive today, gone tomorrow.

It's a sad time! charm of the eyes!
Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me -
I love the lush decay of nature,
Forests dressed in scarlet and gold,
In their canopy there is noise and fresh breath,
And the skies are covered with wavy darkness,
And a rare ray of sunshine, and the first frosts,
And distant threats of gray winter.

And every autumn I bloom again;
The Russian cold is good for my health;
I feel love again for the habits of life:
One by one sleep flies away, one by one hunger comes;
The blood plays easily and joyfully in the heart,
Desires are boiling - I’m happy, young again,
I'm full of life again - that's my body
(Please forgive me the unnecessary prosaicism).

They lead the horse to me; in the open expanse,
Waving his mane, he carries the rider,
And loudly under his shining hoof
The frozen valley rings and the ice cracks.
But the short day goes out, and in the forgotten fireplace
The fire is burning again - then the bright light is pouring,
It smolders slowly - and I read in front of it
Or I harbor long thoughts in my soul.

And I forget the world - and in sweet silence
I'm sweetly lulled by my imagination,
And poetry awakens in me:
The soul is embarrassed by lyrical excitement,
It trembles and sounds and searches, as in a dream,
To finally pour out with free manifestation -
And then an invisible swarm of guests comes towards me,
Old acquaintances, fruits of my dreams.

And the thoughts in my head are agitated in courage,
And light rhymes run towards them,
And fingers ask for pen, pen for paper,
A minute - and the poems will flow freely.
So the ship slumbers motionless in the motionless moisture,
But choo! - the sailors suddenly rush and crawl
Up, down - and the sails are inflated, the winds are full;
The mass has moved and is cutting through the waves.

The poem in octaves “Autumn” by A. S. Pushkin was written in the fall of 1833 during the poet’s second visit to the village. Boldino, upon returning from the Urals.

Both in prose and in poetry, A. S. Pushkin repeatedly wrote that autumn is his favorite time of year, the time of his inspiration, creative growth and literary works.

It was not without reason that the poet was happy about autumn and considered it the time of his heyday: A. S. Pushkin’s second autumn on the Boldino estate, lasting a month and a half, turned out to be no less fruitful and rich in works than the first, epochal, Boldino autumn of 1830.

The most famous passage is “Sad time! The charm of the eyes!”, which is the VII octave of the poem “Autumn,” belongs to the landscape lyrics of A. S. Pushkin. The lines of the passage present a complete picture, realistically accurately conveying the awakening of poetry in the soul of the poet inspired by his favorite time.

The verse size of the passage is iambic hexameter; stanza of a poem is an octave.

It's a sad time! charm of the eyes!

The work “Autumn,” and in particular the excerpt, was not published during the author’s lifetime; it was first published by V. A. Zhukovsky in the posthumous collection of works by A. S. Pushkin in 1841.

We bring to your attention the text of the poem in full:

October has already arrived - the grove is already shaking off

The last leaves from their naked branches;

The autumn chill has blown in - the road is freezing.

The stream still runs babbling behind the mill,

But the pond was already frozen; my neighbor is in a hurry

To the departing fields with my desire,

And the winter ones suffer from mad fun,

And the barking of dogs wakes up the sleeping oak forests.

Now is my time: I don’t like spring;

The thaw is boring to me; stench, dirt - in the spring I’m sick;

The blood is fermenting; feelings and mind are constrained by melancholy.

I'm happier in the harsh winter

I love her snow; in the presence of the moon

How easy the running of a sleigh with a friend is fast and free,

When under the sable, warm and fresh,

She shakes your hand, glowing and trembling!

How fun it is to put sharp iron on your feet,

Slide along the mirror of standing, smooth rivers!

And the brilliant worries of the winter holidays?..

But you also need to know honor; six months of snow and snow,

After all, this is finally true for the inhabitant of the den,

The bear will get bored. You can't take a whole century

We'll ride in a sleigh with the young Armids

Or sour by the stoves behind double glass.

Oh, summer is red! I would love you

If only it weren't for the heat, the dust, the mosquitoes, and the flies.

You, ruining all your spiritual abilities,

You torture us; like the fields we suffer from drought;

Just to get something to drink and refresh yourself -

We have no other thought, and it’s a pity for the old woman’s winter,

And, having seen her off with pancakes and wine,

We are celebrating her funeral with ice cream and ice.

The days of late autumn are usually scolded,

But she is sweet to me, dear reader,

Quiet beauty, shining humbly.

So unloved child in the family

It attracts me to itself. To tell you frankly,

Of the annual times, I am glad only for her,

There is a lot of good in her; a lover is not vain,

I found something in her like a wayward dream.

How to explain this? I like her

Like you probably are a consumptive maiden

Sometimes I like it. Condemned to death

The poor thing bows down without a murmur, without anger.

A smile is visible on faded lips;

She does not hear the gaping of the grave abyss;

The color of his face is still purple.

She is still alive today, gone tomorrow.

It's a sad time! charm of the eyes!

I am pleased with your farewell beauty -

I love the lush decay of nature,

Forests dressed in scarlet and gold,

In their canopy there is noise and fresh breath,

And the skies are covered with wavy darkness,

And a rare ray of sunshine, and the first frosts,

And distant gray winter threats.

And every autumn I bloom again;

The Russian cold is good for my health;

I feel love again for the habits of life:

One by one sleep flies away, one by one hunger comes;

The blood plays easily and joyfully in the heart,

Desires are boiling - I’m happy, young again,

I’m full of life again - that’s my body

(Please forgive me the unnecessary prosaicism).

They lead the horse to me; in the open expanse,

Waving his mane, he carries the rider,

And loudly under his shining hoof

The frozen valley rings and the ice cracks.

But the short day goes out, and in the forgotten fireplace

The fire is burning again - then the bright light is pouring,

It smolders slowly - and I read in front of it

Or I harbor long thoughts in my soul.

And I forget the world - and in sweet silence

I'm sweetly lulled to sleep by my imagination,

And poetry awakens in me:

The soul is embarrassed by lyrical excitement,

It trembles and sounds and searches, as in a dream,

To finally pour out with free manifestation -

And then an invisible swarm of guests comes towards me,

Old acquaintances, fruits of my dreams.

And the thoughts in my head are agitated in courage,

And light rhymes run towards them,

And fingers ask for pen, pen for paper,

A minute - and the poems will flow freely.

So the ship slumbers motionless in the motionless moisture,

But choo! - the sailors suddenly rush and crawl

Up, down - and the sails are inflated, the winds are full;

The mass has moved and is cutting through the waves.

Floating. Where should we sail? . . . .

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

“...It's a sad time! The charm of the eyes..." (excerpt from the novel "Eugene Onegin")

...It's a sad time! Ouch charm!

Your farewell beauty is pleasant to me -

I love the lush decay of nature,

Forests dressed in scarlet and gold,

In their canopy there is noise and fresh breath,

And the skies are covered with wavy darkness,

And a rare ray of sunshine, and the first frosts,

And distant threats of gray winter.