Learning About Various Parts of a Piano - as part of the expert series by GeoBeats.
Depending on what kind of piano you have, whether its upright, or grand, or spinet, you are still going to have pretty much the same kinds of elements. Of course you have eighty eight keys, black and white. And I am just going to strike one note.
When I do that, the hammer comes up, and it hits three strings which are on this tuning pin, they are coiled around. As soon as I take my finger off, this thing on top is called the damper and it stops it. OK! So on the piano there are, in the middle section, three strings for each key. As you go higher, becaus the strings get smaller and smaller, and thinner and thinner, You have no dampers. You still have three strings, but from about here on you have no dampers.
As you get lower the strings get thicker, and longer, and they even have have to put them on sideways. And you have two and then all the way down to the bottom, just one. So that is interesting to know and it also will help you when you are learning to pay the piano.
You see this beautiful wood here, that is the sound board, and on this type of piano you have a metal frame. It is very, very strong. Most pianos you have three panels, some pianos just have two. And with pedal, right pedal, will lift that entire damper bar all at once. You can just hear that sound going on.
John Masefield - On Growing Old - Read by John Derbyshire
On Growing Old
by John Masefield (1878-1967)
Be with me, Beauty, for the fire is dying;
My dog and I are old, too old for roving.
Man, whose young passion sets the spindrift flying,
Is soon too lame to march, too cold for loving.
I take the book and gather to the fire,
Turning old yellow leaves; minute by minute
The clock ticks to my heart. A withered wire,
Moves a thin ghost of music in the spinet.
I cannot sail your seas, I cannot wander
Your cornland, nor your hill-land, nor your valleys
Ever again, nor share the battle yonder
Where the young knight the broken squadron rallies.
Only stay quiet while my mind remembers
The beauty of fire from the beauty of embers.
Beauty, have pity! for the strong have power,
The rich their wealth, the beautiful their grace,
Summer of man its sunlight and its flower.
Spring-time of man, all April in a face.
Only, as in the jostling in the Strand,
Where the mob thrusts, or loiters, or is loud,
The beggar with the saucer in his hand
Asks only a penny from the passing crowd,
So, from this glittering world with all its fashion,
Its fire, and play of men, its stir, its march,
Let me have wisdom, Beauty, wisdom and passion,
Bread to the soul, rain where the summers parch.
Give me but these, and though the darkness close
Even the night will blossom as the rose.