Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343763" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Coal Picker</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">He perches in the slime, inert,<br>Bedaubed with iridescent dirt.<br>The oil upon the puddles dries<br>To colours like a peacock's eyes,<br>And half-submerged tomato-cans<br>Shine scaly, as leviathans<br>Oozily crawling through the mud.<br>The ground is here and there bestud<br>With lumps of only part-burned coal.<br>His duty is to glean the whole,<br>To pick them from the filth, each one,<br>To hoard them for the hidden sun<br>Which glows within each fiery core<br>And waits to be made free once more.<br>Their sharp and glistening edges cut<br>His stiffened fingers. Through the smut<br>Gleam red the wounds which will not shut.<br>Wet through and shivering he kneels<br>And digs the slippery coals; like eels<br>They slide about. His force all spent,<br>He counts his small accomplishment.<br>A half-a-dozen clinker-coals<br>Which still have fire in their souls.<br>Fire! And in his thought there burns<br>The topaz fire of votive urns.<br>He sees it fling from hill to hill,<br>And still consumed, is burning still.<br>Higher and higher leaps the flame,<br>The smoke an ever-shifting frame.<br>He sees a Spanish Castle old,<br>With silver steps and paths of gold.<br>From myrtle bowers comes the plash<br>Of fountains, and the emerald flash<br>Of parrots in the orange trees,<br>Whose blossoms pasture humming bees.<br>He knows he feeds the urns whose smoke<br>Bears visions, that his master-stroke<br>Is out of dirt and misery<br>To light the fire of poesy.<br>He sees the glory, yet he knows<br>That others cannot see his shows.<br>To them his smoke is sightless, black,<br>His votive vessels but a pack<br>Of old discarded shards, his fire<br>A peddler's; still to him the pyre<br>Is incensed, an enduring goal!<br>He sighs and grubs another coal.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Amy+Lowell">Amy Lowell</a><div class=q>
<img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share">
<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=343763" data-title="The Coal Picker de Amy Lowell" data-description="He perches in the slime, inert,
Bedaubed with iridescent dirt.
The oil upon the puddles dries
To colours like a peacock's eyes,
And half-submerged tomato-cans
Shine scaly, as leviathans
Oozily crawling through the mud.
The ground is here and there..."></div>
</div>
</div>