Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
Copy
<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=421241" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Tuesday Before Easter</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Fill high the bowl, and spice it well, and pour<br>The dews oblivious: for the Cross is sharp,<br> The Cross is sharp, and He<br> Is tenderer than a lamb.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"He wept by Lazarus' grave--how will He bear<br>This bed of anguish? and His pale weak form<br> Is worn with many a watch<br> Of sorrow and unrest.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"His sweat last night was as great drops of blood,<br>And the sad burthen pressed Him so to earth,<br> The very torturers paused<br> To help Him on His way.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">"Fill high the bowl, benumb His aching sense<br>With medicined sleep."--O awful in Thy woe!<br> The parching thirst of death<br> Is on Thee, and Thou triest</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The slumb'rous potion bland, and wilt not drink:<br>Not sullen, nor in scorn, like haughty man<br> With suicidal hand<br> Putting his solace by:</div><div style="margin:10px 0">But as at first Thine all-pervading look<br>Saw from Thy Father's bosom to the abyss<br> Measuring in calm presage<br> The infinite descent;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">So to the end, though now of mortal pangs<br>Made heir, and emptied of Thy glory, awhile,<br> With unaverted eye<br> Thou meetest all the storm.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Thou wilt feel all, that Thou mayst pity all;<br>And rather wouldst Thou wreathe with strong pain,<br> Than overcloud Thy soul,<br> So clear in agony,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Or lose one glimpse of Heaven before the time<br>O most entire and perfect sacrifice,<br> Renewed in every pulse<br> That on the tedious Cross</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Told the long hours of death, as, one by one,<br>The life-strings of that tender heart gave way;<br> E'en sinners, taught by Thee,<br> Look Sorrow in the face,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And bid her freely welcome, unbeguiled<br>By false kind solaces, and spells of earth:-<br> And yet not all unsoothed;<br> For when was Joy so dear,</div><div style="margin:10px 0">As the deep calm that breathed, "Father, forgive,"<br>Or, "Be with Me in Paradise to-day?"<br> And, though the strife be sore,<br> Yet in His parting breath</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Love masters Agony; the soul that seemed<br>Forsaken, feels her present God again,<br> And in her Father's arms<br> Contented dies away.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=John+Keble">John Keble</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=421241" data-title="Tuesday Before Easter de John Keble" data-description=""Fill high the bowl, and spice it well, and pour The dews oblivious: for the Cross is sharp, The Cross is sharp, and He Is tenderer than a lamb. "He wept by Lazarus' grave--how will He bear This bed of anguish? and His pale weak form ..."></div> </div> </div>
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black