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=369371" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>A Christmas Letter From Australia</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">’T IS Christmas, and the North wind blows; ’t was two years yesterday <br>Since from the Lusitania’s bows I looked o’er Table Bay, <br>A tripper round the narrow world, a pilgrim of the main, <br>Expecting when her sails unfurled to start for home again. <br> <br>’T is Christmas, and the North wind blows; to-day our hearts are one, <br>Though you are ’mid the English snows and I in Austral sun; <br>You, when you hear the Northern blast, pile high a mightier fire, <br>Our ladies cower until it ’s past in lawn and lace attire. <br> <br>I fancy I can picture you upon this Christmas night, <br>Just sitting as you used to do, the laughter at its height: <br>And then a sudden, silent pause intruding on your glee, <br>And kind eyes glistening because you chanced to think of me. <br> <br>This morning when I woke and knew ’t was Christmas come again, <br>I almost fancied I could view white rime upon the pane, <br>And hear the ringing of the wheels upon the frosty ground,<br>And see the drip that downward steals in icy casket bound. <br> <br>I daresay you ’ll be on the lake, or sliding on the snow, <br>And breathing on your hands to make the circulation flow, <br>Nestling your nose among the furs of which your boa ’s made,— <br>The Fahrenheit here registers a hundred in the shade.<br> <br>It is not quite a Christmas here with this unclouded sky, <br>This pure transparent atmosphere, this sun midheaven-high; <br>To see the rose upon the bush, young leaves upon the trees, <br>And hear the forest’s summer hush or the low hum of bees. <br> <br>But cold winds bring not Christmastide, nor budding roses June,<br>And when it ’s night upon your side we ’re basking in the noon. <br>Kind hearts make Christmas—June can bring blue sky or clouds above; <br>The only universal spring is that which comes of love. <br> <br>And so it ’s Christmas in the South as on the North-Sea coasts, <br>Though we are starved with summer-drouth and you with winter frosts.<br>And we shall have our roast beef here, and think of you the while, <br>Though all the watery hemisphere cuts off the mother isle. <br> <br>Feel sure that we shall think of you, we who have wandered forth, <br>And many a million thoughts will go to-day from south to north; <br>Old heads will muse on churches old, where bells will ring to-day— <br>The very bells, perchance, which tolled their fathers to the clay. <br> <br>And now, good-night! and I shall dream that I am with you all, <br>Watching the ruddy embers gleam athwart the panelled hall; <br>Nor care I if I dream or not, though severed by the foam, <br>My heart is always in the spot which was my childhood’s home.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Douglas+Brooke+Wheelton+Sladen">Douglas Brooke Wheelton Sladen</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=369371" data-title="A Christmas Letter From Australia de Douglas Brooke Wheelton Sladen" data-description="’T IS Christmas, and the North wind blows; ’t was two years yesterday 
Since from the Lusitania’s bows I looked o’er Table Bay, 
A tripper round the narrow world, a pilgrim of the main, 
Expecting when her sails unfurled to start for home ..."></div>
</div>
</div>