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=357542" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Emily Ann</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Government muddles, departments dazed,<br>Fear and confusion wherever he gazed;<br>Order insulted, authority spurned,<br>Dread and distraction wherever he turned <br>Oh, the great King Splosh was a sad, sore king,<br>With never a statesman to straighten the thing.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Glus all importunate urging their claims,<br>With selfish intent and ulterior aims,<br>Glugs with petitions for this and for that,<br>Standing ten-deep on the royal door-mat,<br>Raging when nobody answered their ring -<br>Oh, the great King Splosh was a careworn king.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>And he looked to the right, and he glanced to the left,<br>And he glared at the roof like a monarch bereft<br>Of his wisdom and wits and his wealth all in one;<br>And, at least once a minute, asked, 'What's to be done?'<br>But the Swanks stood around him and answered, with groans,<br>'Your majesty, Gosh is half buried in stones!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'How now?' cried the King. 'Is there not in my land<br>One Glug who can cope with this dreadful demand:<br>A rich man, a poor man, a beggar man, thief <br>I reck not his rank so he lessen my grief <br>A soldier, a sailor, a - ' Raising his head,<br>With relief in his eye, 'Now, I mind me!' he said.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'I mind me a Tinker, and what once befel,<br>When I think, on the whole, he was treated not well.<br>But he shall be honoured, and he shall be famed<br>If he read me this riddle. But how is he named?<br>Some commonplace title, like-Simon?-No-Sym!<br>Go, send out my riders, and scour Gosh for him.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>They rode for a day to the sea in the South,<br>Calling the name of him, hand to the mouth.<br>They rode for a day to the hills in the East,<br>But signs of a tinker saw never the least.<br>Then they rode to the North thro' a whole day long,<br>And paused in the even to hark to a song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Kettles and pans! Kettles and pans!<br>Oh, who can show tresses like Emily Ann's?<br>Brown in the shadow and gold at the tips,<br>Bright as the smile on her beckoning lips.<br>Bring out your kettle! 0 kettle or pan!<br>So I buy me a ribband for Emily Ann.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"></div><div style="margin:10px 0">With his feet in the grass, and his back to a tree,<br>Merry as only a tinker can be,<br>Busily tinkering, mending a pan,<br>Singing as only a merry man can . . .<br>'Sym!' cried the riders. ' 'Tis thus you are styled?'<br>And he paused in his singing, and nodded and smiled.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Said he: 'Last eve, when the sun was low,<br>Down thro' the bracken I watched her go <br>Down thro' the bracken, with simple grace <br>And the glory of eve shone full on her face;<br>And there on the sky-line it lingered a span,<br>So loth to be leaving my Emily Arm.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>With hands to their faces the riders smiled.<br>'Sym,' they said - 'be it so you're styled <br>Behold, great Splosh, our sorrowing King,<br>Has sent us hither, that we may bring<br>To the palace in Gosh a Glug so named,<br>That he may be honoured and justly famed.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Yet,' said Sym, as he tinkered his can,<br>'What should you know of her, Emily Ann?<br>Early as cock-crow yester morn<br>I watched young sunbeams, newly born,<br>As out of the East they frolicked and ran,<br>Eager to greet her, my Emily Arm.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'King Splosh,' said the riders, 'is bowed with grief;<br>And the glory of Gosh is a yellowing leaf.<br>Up with you, Tinker! There's work ahead.<br>With a King forsaken, and Swanks in dread,<br>To whom may we turn for the salving of man?'<br>And Sym, he answered them, 'Emily Ann.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Said he: 'Whenever I watch her pass,<br>With her skirts so high o'er the dew-wet grass,<br>I envy every blade the bruise<br>It earns in the cause of her twinkling shoes.<br>Oh, the dew-wet grass, where this morn she ran,<br>Was doubly jewelled for Emily Ann.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'But haste!' they cried. 'By the palace gates<br>A sorrowing king for a tinker waits.<br> And what shall we answer our Lord the King<br>If never a tinker hence we bring,<br>To tinker a kingdom so sore amiss?'<br>But Sym, he said to them, 'Answer him this:</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Every eve, when the clock chimes eight,<br>I kiss her fair, by her mother's gate:<br>Twice, all reverent, on the brow-<br>Once for a pray'r, and once for a vow;<br>Twice on her eyes that they may shine,<br>Then, full on the mouth because she's mine.''</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Calf!' sneered the riders. 'O Tinker, heed!<br>Mount and away with us, we must speed.<br>All Gosh is agog for the coming of Sym.<br>Garlands and greatness are waiting for him:<br>Garlands of roses, and garments of red<br>And a chaplet for crowning a conqueror's head.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Listen,' quoth Sym, as he stirred his fire.<br>'Once in my life have I known desire.<br>Then, Oh, but the touch of her kindled a flame<br>That burns as a sun by the candle of fame.<br>And a blessing and boon for a poor tinker man<br>Looks out from the eyes of my Emily Ann.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Then they said to him, 'Fool! Do you cast aside<br>Promise of honour, and place, and pride,<br>Gold for the asking, and power o'er men<br>Working your will with the stroke of a pen?<br>Vexed were the King if you ride not with us.'<br>But Sym, he said to them, 'Answer him thus:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Ease and honour and leave to live <br>These are the gifts that a king may give<br>'Twas over the meadow I saw her first;<br>And my lips grew parched like a man athirst<br>Oh, my treasure was ne'er in the gift of man;<br>For the gods have given me Emily Ann.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>'Listen,' said they, 'O you crazy Sym.<br>Roses perish, and eyes grow dim.<br>Lustre fades from the fairest hair.<br>Who weds a woman links arms with care.<br>But women there are in the city of Gosh -<br>Ay, even the daughters of good King Splosh. . .'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Care,' said Sym, 'is a weed that springs<br>Even to-day in the gardens of kings.<br>And I, who have lived 'neath the tent of the skies,<br>Know of the flowers, and which to prize . . .<br>Give you good even! For now I must jog.'<br>And he whistled him once to his little red dog.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br>Into the meadow and over the stile,<br>Off went the tinker man, singing the while;<br> Down by the bracken patch, over the hill,<br> With the little red dog at the heel of him still.<br>And back, as he soberly sauntered along,<br>There came to the riders the tail of his song.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">'Kettles and pots! Kettles and pans!<br>Strong is my arm if the cause it be man's.<br>But a fig for the cause of a cunning old king;<br>For Emily Ann will be mine in the Spring.<br>Then nought shall I labour for Splosh or his plans;<br>Tho' I'll mend him a kettle. Ho, kettles and pans!'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Clarence+Michael+James+Stanislaus+Dennis">Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis</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=357542" data-title="Emily Ann de Clarence Michael James Stanislaus Dennis" data-description="Government muddles, departments dazed,
Fear and confusion wherever he gazed;
Order insulted, authority spurned,
Dread and distraction wherever he turned 
Oh, the great King Splosh was a sad, sore king,
With never a statesman to straighten the thin..."></div>
</div>
</div>