The holiday of autumn


Pupil 1: Autumn…The most beautiful, the richest and at the same time the most mysterious season of the year. It presents us with warm days, plenty of different fruit and vegetables and the blue sky with tender clouds on it, flying to the far away countries like the last letters written by disappearing warmth. This season looks like a picture drawn by Salvador Dali. And in this picture there is a woman whose face is divided into two parts: the one is young, charming and smiling and the other is old, covered with wrinkles, crying. It is the real face of autumn.

But in September she is still in her sweet seventeen, in the dress sewn from the sheet of the blue sky. Look at this mesmerizing lady and remember her being so charming.

(Tchaikovsky’s waltz “The Four Seasons” is heard. Children are dancing.)

Look! Autumn…

Look! Autumn…

Autumn: Good afternoon, dear teachers, guests, pu­pils – all the people who have gathered here today for my holiday. Yes, it is really me, the Golden Autumn! I have brought you golden leaves, ripe fruit and vegetables, some warm days, thin clouds and morning fogs. My helpers are September, October, November. They spread thick carpets made of sunrays. I arrived to be the Queen of this holiday. Oh! I have completely forgotten about my help­ers! And they are worth being listened too.

September: Let me speak!

October: No! Let me!

November: No! It is my turn!

September: And now here we are, the autumn months: September, October, and November. Each of the three of us has a lot of things to be proud of: we are beautiful, rich in gold and full of wonderful holidays. There are two holi­days which are celebrated during the time of my ruling.

They are the first of September, the day of Knowledge and the ninth of September – the World Day of Beauty. The first of September is the holiday of all educated people; it is the holiday of mind, genius and new ideas in studying and scientific works. Arid the ninth of September is the day when the Beauty is honoured. As John Keats said, “Beauty is truth, beauty is all you know on earth, and all you need to know. ”


Pupil 2:

О drear and cheerless time, you charm the eye and tender

Contentment to the heart. How wondrous to behold Your dying beauty is, the lush and sumptuous splendour Of nature’s farewell bloom; the forests clad in-gold; The wind’s refreshing breath; the azure sky’s surrender To grayish pearly haze; the pinch of early cold; The fitful ray of sun, too rare to be persistent; And hoary winter’s threats, still undefined and distant.

  1. Pushkin

Pupil 1: And now, dear friends, I have a competition for you. I invite volunteers to take                     part in the contest. Divide into two teams. I have prepared some riddles for you.

  • What key does not lock a door? (a music key)
  • What is the best place to put the cake in? (the mouth)
  • What is it that was yesterday and will be tomorrow? (today)
  • What goes up when the rain comes down? (an um­brella)

5.1 have both a face and hands, And move before your eyes Yet when I go, my body stands, And when I stand, I lie. (a clock)

  • What belongs only to you, and yet is used more by others than by yourself? (your name)
  • What travels at greater speed, heat or cold? (heat because you can catch a cold)

8.. When I eat, I live, but when I drink, I die, what am I? (afire)

  1. It is white, it is cold. You can ski on it. What is it? (snow)
  2. We have friends. They cannot walk and cannot see. But they are very good to you and me.

With these friends we sail on ships and ride on trains and even fly in airplanes. There friends show us towns, seas and lands. Can you guess who these good friends are? (books)

Pupil 2: Oh! I see that you are very smart. And now as a present to all of you – this wonderful autumn song. (A song «Осень» by the group “Lyceum “)

October I am not a boaster, but you know, brother Sep­tember, I have something to be proud of, too. Three wonder­ful holidays are celebrated under my government. These are the Teacher’s Day; Halloween and Harvest Festival. At the beginning of October many schools in England have Harvest Festival. Boys and girls bring fruit and-vegetables from their gardens. They bring autumn flowers – yellow and orange chry­santhemums – and nuts from the woods. And we prepared an autumn exhibition, too. Look at this composition.

(On the table — compositions of flowers, vegetables and fruit, chestnuts and leaves.)

Pupil 1: And now let’s check how you know songs about autumn. We will divide the participants into two teams. Each team should sing a song about autumn and the one who knows more songs will be the winner.

Pupil 2: You know so many autumn songs! And the winner is the team …. You are rewarded with the Leaf of Golden Autumn.

October: But the main holiday during the time of my ruling is the Teacher’s Day and this song is the present to you, dear teachers.

(A song «Падают листья»)

November: I am the last month of the autumn. I bring wild winds and torrents of rain. I make people feel un­comfortable and make them hurry to their houses, blow­ing at their backs. But I am full of events as well. Marie Curie, a French physicist was born in November, as well as Fyodor Dostoyevsky, a Russian novelist. In my month the first Veteran’s Day was celebrated in the US and the first national Thanksgiving Day was proclaimed by President George Washington. And in November Jonathan Swift was born, the writer who wrote Gulliver’s Travels.

Pupil 1: Brother November has brought us an inter­esting game. Let’s play it. I’ll give you the beginning of a proverb and you should say the ending. The team that will answer most of my questions will be the winner.

  • A good beginning (makes a good ending).
  • All is well (that ends well).
  • After dinner sit a while (after supper walk a mile).
  • Better late (than never).
  • A friend in need (is a friend indeed).
  • Speech is silver (but silence is gold).
  • Don’t trouble troubles (till troubles trouble you).
  • East or West (home is best).
  • He laughs best (who laughs last).
  1. Every bird (likes its own nest).

Pupil 2: The winner is rewarded with the Leaf of Golden Autumn.

September: So, all of us have different events during our ruling, but there is one thing we have in common. We are all months of the season of rains, and an umbrella is as important in September as it is important in October and November.

(The dance with umbrellas.)

Autumn: And what have you prepared for me today?

Pupil 1: Oh, today, your majesty, we are also having a sort of Harvest Festival. There is no room for doubt that we are having this festival due to your great generosity.

Pupil 2: Your majesty, Autumn, you are the season when we lose flowers and warm days but gain the fruit. You carry more gold in your hands than all the other sea­sons, that’s why so many people like you. Many painters, musicians and poets devoted their masterpieces to you. You cast a gloom over composers and their music is just as unpredictable as you are.

(A song «Листья жёлтые».)

Pupil 1:


The leaves are dropping from the trees,

Yellow, brown and red.

They patter softly like the rain

One landed on my head!

But when the sleep of winter comes,

They cuddle down to rest,

Then Mother Nature tucks them in

With snow as she thinks best.

Pupil 2: AUTUMN

Autumn is an old woman,

Who is still beautiful

Because her bones are good,

Who comes to breakfast

In her diamonds

And keeps the blinds drawn,

Who comes to tea

In her yesterday’s lace,

And uses the best china,

Who comes to dinner in apricot satin

And eats walnuts.

Autumn is an old woman

Who spends lavishly

The heavy gold of the moon,

Who lights a million candles

Over the gabled roof

And never looks back

To see them black.

(A song «Осень», by Alsu)

Autumn: I know that there are a lot of people here who have their birthdays during my reign. And with all my generosity I present them with the most valuable things I have — ripe autumn apples. It is a pity, but my time is coming to an end. I just say “Good bye”, “See you soon”. And I know that next year we’ll gather again in this hall to celebrate the beautiful holiday of autumn, the most colourful and the richest season of the year.

































By Shogunoka Ledesma

I have never felt the chill of winter

Nor the birth of spring

Only the two faces of Nature

The golden sun shining

Or the heavens openly weeping.

But I have seen autumn

As I looked at her

No cold winter in her smile

A promise.of summer in her eyes

Her hair of autumn leaves.

I have never felt autumn

But I have seen it

It’s the canvass of Rembrandt’s dark, Red, crimson, gold.




By June Kellum

There’s nothing as fine as an autumn day,

With the smell in the air of fresh mown hay.

Each tree is a wonder

Of beauty, untold,

Each leaf brushed with colour,

A sight to behold!

There’s a nip in the air-crisp, cool and clear,

To remind us that winter soon will be here!

But for now we have autumn

  • The show-off of seasons
  • My favourite by far, And these are the reasons!



By Thomas Hardy

Why should this flower delay so long

To show its tremulous plumes?

Now is the time of plaintive robin-song

When flowers are in their tombs.

Through the slow summer, when the sun

Called to each frond and whorl

That all he could for flowers was being done,

Why did it not uncurl?

It must have felt that fervid call

Although it took no heed,

Waking but now, when leaves like corpses fall,

And saps all retrocede.

Too late its beauty, lonely thing,

The season’s shine is spent,

Nothing remains for it but shivering

In tempest turbulent.

Had it a reason for delay,

Dreaming in witlessness

That for a bloom so delicately gay

Winter would stay its stress?

I talk as if the thing were born

With sense to work its mind;

Yet it is but one mask of many worn

By the Great Face behind.



By Fanny Montgomery

They’re coming down in showers,

The leaves all gold and red;

They’re covering the little flowers,

And tucking them in bed.

They’ve spread a fairy carpet All up and down the street;

And when we skip along to school,

They rustle beneath our feet.




By Emily Dickson

Here’s November.

The year’s sad daughter,

A loveless maid,

A lamb for the slaughter.

An empty mirror,

A sunless morn.

A withered wreath,

The husk of the corn.

A night, that falls,

Without tomorrow,

Here’s November The month of sorrow.

You may also like...