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=419048" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Empty Niche</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">A KING once made a gallery of art, <br>With portraits of dead friends and living graced; <br>And at the end, 'neath curtains drawn apart, <br>An empty marble pedestal was placed. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Here, every day, the king would come, and pace <br>With eyes well-pleased along the statued hall; <br>But, ere he left, he turned with saddened face, <br>And mused before the curtained pedestal. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">And once a courtier asked him why he kept <br>The shadowed niche to fill his heart with dole; <br>'For absent friends,' the monarch said, and wept; <br>'There still must be one absent to the soul.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And this is true of all the hearts that beat;<br>Though days be soft and summer pathways fair,<br>Be sure, while joyous glances round us meet,<br>The curtained crypt and vacant plinth are there.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">To-day we stand before our draped recess: <br>There is none absent—all we love are here; <br>To-morrow's hands the opening curtains press, <br>And lo, the pallid pediment is bare! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">The cold affection that plain duty breeds <br>May see its union severed, and approve; <br>But when our bond is touched, it throbs and bleeds— <br>We pay no meed of duty, but of love. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">As creeping tendrils shudder from the stone,<br>The vines of love avoid the frigid heart; <br>The work men do is not their test alone,<br>The love they win is far the better chart.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">They say the citron-tree will never thrive <br>Transplanted from the soil where it matured; <br>Ah, would 'twere so that men could only live <br>Through working on where they had love secured! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">'The People of the Book,' men called the Jews— <br>Our priests are truly ' People of the Word; ' <br>And he who serves the Master must not choose— <br>He renders feudal service to the Lord.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But we who love and lose will, like the king, <br>Still keep the alcove empty in the hall, <br>And hope, firm-hearted, that some day will bring <br>Our absent one to fill his pedestal.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Boyle+O%27Reilly">John Boyle O'Reilly</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=419048" data-title="The Empty Niche de John Boyle O'Reilly" data-description="A KING once made a gallery of art, 
With portraits of dead friends and living graced; 
And at the end, 'neath curtains drawn apart, 
An empty marble pedestal was placed. 

Here, every day, the king would come, and pace 
With eyes well-pleased alon..."></div>
</div>
</div>