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=351286" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Iron Bridge</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I am standing on a disused iron bridge<br>that was erected in 1902,<br>according to the iron plaque bolted into a beam,<br>the year my mother turned one.<br>Imagine--a mother in her infancy,<br>and she was a Canadian infant at that,<br>one of the great infants of the province of Ontario.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But here I am leaning on the rusted railing<br>looking at the water below,<br>which is flat and reflective this morning,<br>sky-blue and streaked with high clouds,<br>and the more I look at the water,<br>which is like a talking picture,<br>the more I think of 1902<br>when workmen in shirts and caps<br>riveted this iron bridge together<br>across a thin channel joining two lakes<br>where wildflowers blow along the shore now<br>and pairs of swans float in the leafy coves.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">1902--my mother was so tiny<br>she could have fit into one of those oval<br>baskets for holding apples,<br>which her mother could have lined with a soft cloth<br>and placed on the kitchen table<br>so she could keep an eye on infant Katherine<br>while she scrubbed potatoes or shelled a bag of peas,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the way I am keeping an eye on that cormorant<br>who just broke the glassy surface<br>and is moving away from me and the iron bridge,<br>swiveling his curious head,<br>slipping out to where the sun rakes the water<br>and filters through the trees that crowd the shore.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now he dives,<br>disappears below the surface,<br>and while I wait for him to pop up,<br>I picture him flying underwater with his strange wings,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">as I picture you, my tiny mother,<br>who disappeared last year,<br>flying somewhere with your strange wings,<br>your wide eyes, and your heavy wet dress,<br>kicking deeper down into a lake<br>with no end or name, some boundless province of water.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Billy+Collins">Billy Collins</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=351286" data-title="The Iron Bridge de Billy Collins" data-description="I am standing on a disused iron bridge
that was erected in 1902,
according to the iron plaque bolted into a beam,
the year my mother turned one.
Imagine--a mother in her infancy,
and she was a Canadian infant at that,
one of the great infants of t..."></div>
</div>
</div>