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=391022" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Lyttel Boy</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Sometime there ben a lyttel boy<br> That wolde not renne and play,<br>And helpless like that little tyke<br> Ben allwais in the way.<br>&quot;Goe, make you merrie with the rest,&quot;<br> His weary moder cried;<br>But with a frown he catcht her gown<br> And hong untill her side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">That boy did love his moder well,<br> Which spake him faire, I ween;<br>He loved to stand and hold her hand<br> And ken her with his een;<br>His cosset bleated in the croft,<br> His toys unheeded lay,--<br>He wolde not goe, but, tarrying soe,<br> Ben allwais in the way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Godde loveth children and doth gird<br> His throne with soche as these,<br>And He doth smile in plaisaunce while<br> They cluster at His knees;<br>And sometime, when He looked on earth<br> And watched the bairns at play,<br>He kenned with joy a lyttel boy<br> Ben allwais in the way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And then a moder felt her heart<br> How that it ben to-torne,--<br>She kissed eche day till she ben gray<br> The shoon he used to worn;<br>No bairn let hold untill her gown,<br> Nor played upon the floore,--<br>Godde's was the joy; a lyttel boy<br> Ben in the way no more!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Eugene+Field">Eugene Field</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=391022" data-title="The Lyttel Boy de Eugene Field" data-description="Sometime there ben a lyttel boy
 That wolde not renne and play,
And helpless like that little tyke
 Ben allwais in the way.
&quot;Goe, make you merrie with the rest,&quot;
 His weary moder cried;
But with a frown he catcht her gown
 And hong until..."></div>
</div>
</div>