macbeth — steinway grand // grey skies

lyrics (w h auden): does it howl like a hungry alsatian, or boom like a military band? could one give a first-rate imitation on a saw or a Steinway Grand? is its singing at parties a riot? does it only like Classical stuff? will it stop when one wants to be quiet? tell me the truth about love. i looked inside the summer-house; it wasn’t over there; i tried the thames at maidenhead, and brighton’s bracing air. i don’t know what the blackbird sang, or what the tulip said; but it wasn’t in the chicken-run, or underneath the bed. can it pull extraordinary faces? is it usually sick on a swing? does it spend all its time at the races, or fiddling with pieces of string? has it views of its own about money? does it think patriotism enough? are its stories vulgar but funny? tell me the truth about love. when it comes, will it come without warning just as I’m picking my nose? will it knock on my door in