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=402947" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Lake Leman</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">It is the sacred hour: above the far <br>Low emerald hills that northward fold, <br>Calmly, upon the blue the evening star <br>Floats, wreathed in dusky gold. <br>The winds have sung all day; but now they lie <br>Faint, sleeping; and the evening sounds awake. <br>The slow bell tolls across the water: I <br>Am haunted by the spirit of the lake. <br>It seems as though the sounding of the bell <br>Intoned the low song of the water-soul, <br>And at some moments I can hardly tell <br>The long-resounding echo from the toll. <br>O thou mysterious lake, thy spell <br>Holds all who round thy fruitful margin dwell. <br>Oft have I seen home-going peasants' eyes <br>Lit with the peace that emanates from thee. <br>Those who among thy waters plunge, arise <br>Filled with new wisdom and serenity. <br>Thy veins are in the mountains. I have heard, <br>Down-stretched beside thee at the silent noon, <br>With leaning head attentive to thy word, <br>A secret and delicious mountain-tune, <br>Proceeding as from many shadowed hours <br>In ancient forests carpeted with flowers, <br>Or far, where hidden waters, wandering <br>Through banks of snow, trickle, and meet, and sing. <br>Ah, what repose at noon to go, <br>Lean on thy bosom, hold thee with wide hands, <br>And listen for the music of the snow! <br>But most, as now, <br>When harvest covers thy surrounding lands, <br>I love thee, with a coronal of sheaves <br>Crowned regent of the day; <br>And on the air thy placid breathing leaves <br>A scent of corn and hay. <br>For thou hast gathered (as a mother will <br>The sayings of her children in her heart) <br>The harvest-thoughts of reapers on the hill, <br>When the cool rose and honeysuckle fill <br>The air, and fruit is laden on the cart. <br>Thou breathest the delight <br>Of summer evening at the deep-roofed farm <br>And meditation of the summer night, <br>When the enravished earth is lying warm <br>From the recent kisses of the conquering sun. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Dwell as a spirit in me, O thou one <br>Sweet natural presence. In the years to be <br>When all the mortal loves perchance are done, <br>Them I will bid farewell, but, oh, not thee. <br>I love thee. When the youthful visions fade, <br>Fade thou not also in the hopeless past. <br>Be constant and delightful, as a maid <br>Sought over all the world, and found at last.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Harold+Monro">Harold Monro</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=402947" data-title="Lake Leman de Harold Monro" data-description="It is the sacred hour: above the far 
Low emerald hills that northward fold, 
Calmly, upon the blue the evening star 
Floats, wreathed in dusky gold. 
The winds have sung all day; but now they lie 
Faint, sleeping; and the evening sounds awake. 
T..."></div>
</div>
</div>