Capel a cappella - the best poems about spring. Russian poets of the twentieth century - about spring Poetic spring poetry
We see the description of spring in many Russian poets. One of the striking examples is the work of F.I. Tyutchev. His most famous "spring" work is the poem "Spring Waters". It is a gentle and thoughtful work, which is the early spring with melting snow and flowing streams.
Snow is still whitening in the fields,
And the waters are already rustling in the spring -
They run and wake up the sleepy shore,
They run, and shine, and say ...
They say all over the place:
"Spring is coming, spring is coming,
We are messengers of young spring,
She sent us ahead!
Spring is coming, spring is coming
And quiet, warm May days
Ruddy, bright round dance
Crowds cheerfully for her! .. "
The poems of A. M. Zhemchuzhnikov are also able to evoke spring images in our minds. The poet devoted a considerable part of his work to nature, in particular to spring. The brightest of them are "Spring", "Rooks". They carry images of festivity, youth, joy and tenderness. In addition, it is interesting to consider the images of birds that bring news of the upcoming rays of the sun and spring mood on their wings. An image of early spring immediately arises in the imagination with the keys of birds returning from warm lands. 
Lesok dozed off. Nobody's coming
So far he hasn't been worried.
But I came, and a host of rooks
He took off, screaming, and he all came to life.
They arrived at noon
From morning walks in the fields,
Swinging on the tops of the trees
In a drowsy position.
I interfered; I scared them.
Above the grove for a long time in a noisy dump
There was a bass rumble of rooks,
And the jackdaws loudly echoed them.
Nature in spring occupies a special place in the work of Russian poets. And it's not in vain. After all, it is the most beautiful time, inspiring people to wonderful deeds, the creation of something new, tender. Spring causes only positive emotions and lightness in the soul.
L. N. Tolstoy An excerpt describing spring from Anna Karenina
Part Two, Chapter XII.
…..
Spring did not open for a long time. During the last weeks of Lent the weather was clear and frosty. During the day it melted in the sun, and at night it reached seven degrees; The crust was such that they drove carts without a road, Easter was in the snow. Then suddenly, on the second day of the Holy, a warm wind blew, clouds moved in, and for three days and three nights it rained stormy and warm rain. On Thursday, the wind died down and a thick gray fog rolled in, as if hiding the secrets of the changes taking place in nature. Water poured in the fog, ice floes crackled and moved, muddy, foaming streams moved faster, and in the evening the fog broke up on Krasnaya Gorka itself, the clouds scattered like white caps, it cleared up, and real spring opened up. The next morning, the bright sun that rose quickly ate the thin ice that covered the waters, and all the warm air trembled from the vapors of the revived earth that filled it. The young grass, old and emerging with needles, turned green, the buds of viburnum, currant and sticky spirit birch puffed out, and on the vine sprinkled with golden color, an exposed flying bee buzzed. Invisible larks flooded over the velvet verdure and icy stubble, lapwings wept over lowlands and marshes filled with brown, unwashed water, and cranes and geese flew high with spring cackling. Mangy cattle roared in the pastures, only in places not yet molted, bow-legged lambs began to play around the bleating mothers losing the wave, swift-footed children ran along the drying paths, with the imprints of bare feet, the cheerful voices of women with canvases crackled on the pond, and the axes of the peasants rattled in the yards, setting up plows and harrows. The real spring has come.
spring
Chekhov A. P
The snow has not yet fallen from the ground, but spring is already asking for the soul. If you have ever recovered from a serious illness, then you know the blissful state when you freeze from vague forebodings and smile for no reason. Apparently, nature is now experiencing the same state. The ground is cold, the dirt and snow squelches underfoot, but how merry, affectionate, and affable everything is around! The air is so clear and transparent that if you climb a dovecote or a bell tower, you seem to see the whole universe from end to end. The sun shines brightly, and its rays, playing and smiling, bathe in puddles along with sparrows. The river swells and darkens; she has already woken up and not today, tomorrow she will roar. The trees are bare, but they already live and breathe.
At such a time, it is good to drive dirty water in ditches with a broom or shovel, to launch boats on the water or to hammer stubborn ice with your heels. It is also good to drive pigeons under the very heights of heaven or climb trees and tie birdhouses there. Yes, everything is fine at this happy time of the year, especially if you are young, love nature, and if you are not capricious, not hysterical, and if you are not required to sit within four walls from morning to evening. It’s not good if you are sick, if you languish in the office, if you know the muses…..
Meeting of spring: (Reasoning)
Chekhov A. P
Borea was replaced by marshmallows. A breeze is blowing either from the west or from the south (I recently did not understand the local countries of the world enough in Moscow), it blows lightly, barely touching the tails ... It’s not cold, and it’s not so cold that you can safely walk in a hat, coat and with a cane. There is no frost even at night. The snow melted, turned into muddy water, running with a murmur from the mountains and hillocks into dirty ditches; it has not melted only in the lanes and small streets, where it rests serenely under a three-inch brown, earthy layer and will rest until May ... In the fields, in the forests and on the boulevards, green grass timidly breaks through ... The trees are still completely bare, but they look out somehow cheerfully . The sky is so glorious, clear, bright; only occasionally do clouds roll in and let small splashes on the ground ... The sun shines so well, so warmly and so kindly, as if it had a nice drink, a satisfying bite and saw an old friend ... It smells of young grass, manure, smoke, mold, all kinds of rubbish, steppe and something special... In nature, everywhere you look, preparations, chores, endless cooking... The bottom line is that spring is flying.
The public, which is terribly tired of spending money on firewood, walking in heavy fur coats and ten-pound galoshes, breathing either hard, cold, or bathhouse, apartment air, joyfully, swiftly and standing on their toes, stretches out their hands towards the flying spring. Spring is a welcome guest, but is it kind? How can you tell? I don't think it's too kind, and it's not too bad either. Whatever it is, they look forward to it.
Poets old and young, the best and the worst, leaving cashiers, bankers, railroad workers and horned men alone for a while, scribble madrigals, dithyrambs, salutatory odes, ballads and other poetic things, singing in them every single spring charm ... As usual, they sing unsuccessfully (I'm not talking about those present). The moon, air, haze, distance, desires, "she" - they have in the foreground.
Prose writers are also tuned in a poetic way. All feuilletons, curses and praises begin and end with a description of their own feelings, inspired by the approaching spring.
Young ladies and gentlemen of that ... Suffer mortally! Their pulse beats 190 per minute, the temperature is feverish. Hearts are full of the sweetest forebodings... Spring brings love with it, and love brings with it: "How much happiness, how much torment!" In our drawing, spring holds Cupid on a string. And he does well. And in love, discipline is needed, but what would happen if she let Cupid down, gave him, a rascal, freedom? I'm a serious person, but even all kinds of devilry comes into my head due to the grace of spring smells. I am writing, and in front of my eyes there are shady alleys, fountains, birds, “she” and all that. My mother-in-law is already starting to look at me suspiciously, and my wife is constantly sticking out at the window ...
Medical people are very serious people, but even they do not sleep peacefully... They are choked by a nightmare and have the most seductive dreams. The cheeks of doctors, paramedics, pharmacists burn with a feverish blush. And not without reason! There are fetid fogs over the cities, and these fogs consist of microorganisms that produce diseases ... Chests, throats, teeth hurt ... Ancient rheumatisms, gout, neuralgia are played out. Consumptive darkness-darkness. In pharmacies, the crush is terrible. Poor pharmacists have no time to dine or drink tea. Bertolet's salt, Dover's powder, breast spices, iodine and stupid dental products are sold by the pound. As I write, I hear nickels clinking in a nearby pharmacy. My mother-in-law has flux on both sides: freak freak!
Small businessmen, loan savers, practical cannibals, liquids and kulaks dance kachucha for joy. Spring is a benefactor for them too. A thousand fur coats go to the loan offices to be eaten by hungry moths. Everything warm, which has not yet ceased to be valuable, rushes to liquid benefactors. Don't take a fur coat on loan, you will be left without a summer dress, you will flaunt in the country in beavers and raccoons. For my fur coat, which costs a minimum of 100 rubles, they gave me 32 rubles in a loan.
In Berdichev, Zhytomyr, Rostov, Poltava - knee-deep mud. The mud is brown, viscous, smelly... Passers-by sit at home and do not show their noses into the street: just look that you will drown in the devil knows what. You leave in the mud not only galoshes, but even boots with socks. Go out into the street, if necessary, either barefoot or on stilts, or best of all, don't walk at all. In mother Moscow, to be fair, you can’t leave your boots in the mud, but you will certainly pick up in galoshes. You can say goodbye to galoshes forever only in very few places (namely: at the corner of Kuznetsky and Petrovka, on Truba and almost in all squares). From village to village you will not pass, you will not pass.
Everything is going to walk and rejoice, except for the youths and youths. Young people will not see spring beyond the exams. The whole of May will go to getting fives and ones. For individuals, spring is not a welcome guest.
Wait a little, in 5-6 days, in a lot of weeks, the cats will sing louder under the windows, the liquid mud will become thick, the buds on the trees will become fluffy, the grass will look out everywhere, the sun will bake - and the real spring will set in. Wagon trains with furniture, flowers, mattresses and maids will be pulled from Moscow. Gardeners and gardeners will swarm around ... Hunters will start loading their guns.
Wait a week, be patient, but for now, put strong bandages on your chests so that your raging, urgent hearts do not jump out of your chests ...
By the way, how would you like to depict spring on paper? In any form? In the old days, she was depicted as a beautiful maiden pouring flowers on the ground. Flowers are synonymous with joys... Now there are other times, other customs, and another spring. We also depict her as a lady. It does not pour flowers, because there are no flowers and a hand in a muff. We should have portrayed her as skinny, thin, skeletal, with a consumptive blush, but let her be comme il faut! We make this concession to her only because she is a lady.
, about nature, about the weather.
Progress
Recently, our entire class went on a field trip to observe the changes in nature with the arrival of spring. The sun warmed like a spring, the snow melted, streams ran, the air was clean and transparent, and the sky was bright blue. Our teacher offered to recall poems, riddles, proverbs about spring. And what? We managed to remember only a few poems that we had learned recently. Then we decided to find out which poets and writers wrote about spring, how artists reflected this theme in their paintings, what riddles and proverbs there are about spring.
Our class was divided into groups. Each group did their own task. Tatyana Sergeevna helped us with advice in the selection of material, the design of drawings, poems.
After thinking, we decided to name our project with words from a poem by A.S. Pushkin "With a clear smile, nature through a dream meets the morning of the year."< Слайд 1>
We have questions. What poets, writers and artists wrote about spring?
Why is spring the favorite season of many great writers and poets? How did the artists reflect spring in all its diversity? How is the theme of spring reflected in folklore?< Слайд 2>
We decided to get acquainted with the works of various poets, writers and artists, as well as with Russian folk art, in which the beautiful spring is a source of inspiration.< Слайд 3>
The first group worked on the topic: “What motivates poets and writers to write about spring?” The second group - "Why are there so many proverbs, sayings, riddles about spring in Russian folk art." And the third group - "Spring in the paintings of great artists."<Слайд 4>
Before getting down to work, we discussed the plan according to which we will work, sources of information, forms of presenting the results of the study.< Слайд 5,6>
During our work, we visited the school library, the city children's library named after Andersen, were at an exhibition of paintings in the museum of local lore, listened to a lecture on the topic: "Native nature in the work of folk artists."
At the end of the work, we summed up everything that we did.<Слайд 8>
We did a lot of work, as a result of which we learned that many Russian poets and writers wrote about spring. These are F.I. Tyutchev, V.A. Zhukovsky, A.S. Pushkin, A.N. Pleshcheev, S.D. Drozhzhin, L.N. Tolstoy, A.A. Fet, I.S. Nikitin, A .N. Maikov, A.P. Chekhov and many others. These poems are beautiful, lyrical and musical. For many generations of people, they have been a favorite reading. Poems and stories about native nature do not get old, and we repeat and read them again and again. We read and imagine the sun glare playing on the branches of trees and melting snow, it is still winter in the shade, and drops and thawed patches in the sun. The first spring rain washed the forests, the slopes were bare of snow, noisy streams run along the ravines. And here is the March sky. Blue, blue, clean, clean. And already the birds chirped, chirped, sang, whistled. The soul is light, joyful and warm.
Artists in their works reflected the spring in all its diversity. These are the works of I. Levitan, I. Grabar, V. Baksheev, S. Gerasimov, A. Savrasov, F. Vasiliev and many others. Spring is the time of the awakening of nature, its rapid flowering. Russian landscape painters dedicated their paintings to different periods of spring.
In the picture of K Yuon - the bright March sun, melted snow, shining. like a fabulous blue bowl, the sky, long blue-violet shadows on the melted snow and the village awakening street.<Слайд 9>
And in the painting by F. Vasiliev “The Thaw”, another sign of spring is spring thaw. Rural road flooded with water.< Слайд 10>
And what beauty is in the picture of I. Levitan “March”. In the blue sky, thin twigs of birches shimmer with different colors. Their white trunks seem to glow, and behind them the dark green of the pines. High in the sky on a birch, a birdhouse is waiting for its tenants.<Слайд 12>The April floods of rivers and lakes are expressively depicted in the painting by I. Levitan “Spring. Big water."< Слайд 11>. And his landscape “Blossoming Apple Trees” conveys the charm of their flowering.<Слайд 14>
Spring is the favorite season of many landscape painters, who are especially sensitive to the poetic beauty of spring nature.
Most of the paintings by these artists are now in the Tretyakov Gallery. Thousands of people admire the works of great masters who put all the power of their love into their paintings.
We decided to present the results of our work in the form of a presentation. Our teacher and parents helped us to arrange it. Together with us they took an active part in the collection of material, went on excursions with us, helped to design the album “Spring through the eyes of artists”.
Each group defended their work in turn. We decided that the goals set before starting work were achieved and rated our work as good.
Pleshcheev - Rural song (excerpt)
The grass is green
The sun shines;
Swallow with spring
It flies to us in the canopy.
With her the sun is more beautiful
And spring is sweeter ...
Chirp out of the way
Hello to us soon!
I will give you grains
And you sing a song
What from distant countries
Brought along...
Tyutchev - Spring Waters
Snow is still whitening in the fields,
And the waters are already rustling in the spring -
They run and wake up the sleepy shore,
They run, and shine, and say ...
They say all over the place:
"Spring is coming, spring is coming,
We are messengers of young spring,
She sent us ahead!"
Spring is coming, spring is coming!
And quiet, warm May days
Ruddy, bright round dance
Crowds merrily after her.
Block - In the meadow
The forests are more visible in the distance,
blue skies,
More noticeable and blacker
On the arable land, a strip
And children's louder
Above the meadow of voices.
Spring is on its way
But where is she herself?
Choo, a sonorous voice is heard,
Isn't this spring?
No, it's loud, thin
A wave murmurs in the stream ...
Apollo Maykov - Spring
Pigeon, clean
Snowdrop flower!
And near the see-through,
The last snow...
Last tears
About the grief of the past
And the first dreams
About other happiness.
Tyutchev - Spring
Winter is getting angry
Her time has passed
Spring is knocking on the window
And drives from the yard.
And everything got busy
Everything forces the winter out -
And larks in the sky
The alarm has already been raised.
Winter is still busy
And grumbles at Spring.
She laughs in her eyes
And it only makes more noise...
Wicked witch pissed off
And, capturing the snow,
Let go, run away
To a beautiful child...
Spring and grief is not enough:
Washed up in the snow
And only became blush
Against the enemy.
Zhukovsky - Lark
The dark forest glowed in the sun,
In the valley of steam, thin whitens,
And sang an early song
In azure the lark is sonorous.
It's so easy for me here, so welcome,
So boundless, so airy;
I see the whole world of God here.
And my song praises God!
Tyutchev - Spring Thunderstorm
I love the storm in early May,
When spring, the first thunder,
as if frolicking and playing,
Rumbles in the blue sky.
The young peals are thundering,
Here the rain splashed, the dust flies,
Rain pearls hung,
And the sun gilds the threads.
An agile stream runs from the mountain,
In the forest, the din of birds does not stop,
And the noise of the forest and the noise of the mountains -
Everything echoes cheerfully with thunder.
You say: windy Hebe,
Feeding Zeus' eagle
A thundering cup from the sky
Laughing, she spilled it on the ground.
Pleshcheev - The snow is already melting, streams are running ...
The snow is already melting, streams are running,
Spring blew through the window ...
The nightingales will soon whistle,
And the forest will be dressed in foliage!
clear blue sky,
The sun became warmer and brighter,
It's time for evil blizzards and storms
gone again for a long time...
Spring in the verses of Russian poets
S. A. Yesenin's poem "Bird Cherry" vividly and colorfully describes both the awakening of nature and the author's talent. Skillfully mastering the word, the poet immerses the reader in the delicate aroma of blooming nature, dipping into the spring riot of sounds and colors with his head. Two-foot iambic with a cross rhyme create a stunning effect of presence. The creation, unusually saturated with epithets, unusually accurately conveys the author's attitude to the Motherland, its unique beauty.
Zhukovsky's poem "The Lark" combines vivid auditory and visual images. Describing the beginning of the day, the poet addresses the reader in the first person, philosophizing about the divine nature of the universe. The work is saturated with homogeneous dialects, which cannot but enhance the transfer of the author's emotions, carried away by the feathered herald of spring. Easily and simply, he explains to children about fundamental topics for him.
Imbued with sounds and colors, Tyutchev's creation "Spring Thunderstorm" takes us to a pre-stormy, ozone-saturated atmosphere. A vivid example of talented alliteration with the sounds "r" and "r" allows you to hear the first peals of thunder in the rhythm of the verse. Replete with epithets and metaphors, the poet conveys the freshness of a renewed nature. Associates spring with youth and its violent, loud flow. Skillfully introduces ancient myths, harmoniously diluting the text, hinting at the unity of all natural principles.
Calling to the weather with the previous author, I. Bunin, who writes about rain, dips into the spring atmosphere. Each of his works is imbued with a feeling of deep love for the world around him. Reading the work, you can feel how every word, like a large heavy drop, confidently knocks on the foliage - "large rain in a green forest." Philosophical reflections on the transience of life in the last lines reveal the poet from a deep side unknown to the reader.
The work of A. K. Tolstoy “The last snow in the field is melting” conveys his enthusiastic attitude towards nature. The personification and epithet serve as assistants in expressing the feelings of the hero, without hiding the intimate nature of the work. The poem was written by the author during separation from a married lover, which could not help but give the mood a tragic shade. The author admires the fact that the course of natural laws is independent of his state of mind. His mental anguish will not stop the flowering of spring, the indisputability of natural laws.
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 grade
We see the description of spring in many Russian poets. One of the striking examples is the work of F.I. Tyutchev. His most famous "spring" work is the poem "Spring Waters". It is a gentle and thoughtful work, which is the early spring with melting snow and flowing streams.
Snow is still whitening in the fields,
And the waters are already rustling in the spring -
They run and wake up the sleepy shore,
They run, and shine, and say ...
They say all over the place:
"Spring is coming, spring is coming,
We are messengers of young spring,
She sent us ahead!
Spring is coming, spring is coming
And quiet, warm May days
Ruddy, bright round dance
Crowds cheerfully for her! .. "
The poems of A. M. Zhemchuzhnikov are also able to evoke spring images in our minds. The poet devoted a considerable part of his work to nature, in particular to spring. The brightest of them are "Spring", "Rooks". They carry images of festivity, youth, joy and tenderness. In addition, it is interesting to consider the images of birds that bring news of the upcoming rays of the sun and spring mood on their wings. An image of early spring immediately arises in the imagination with the keys of birds returning from warm lands. Lesok dozed off. Nobody's coming
So far he hasn't been worried.
But I came, and a host of rooks
He took off, screaming, and he all came to life.
They arrived at noon
From morning walks in the fields,
Swinging on the tops of the trees
In a drowsy position.
I interfered; I scared them.
Above the grove for a long time in a noisy dump
There was a bass rumble of rooks,
And the jackdaws loudly echoed them.
Nature in spring occupies a special place in the work of Russian poets. And it's not in vain. After all, it is the most beautiful time, inspiring people to wonderful deeds, the creation of something new, tender. Spring causes only positive emotions and lightness in the soul.
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