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=455576" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Written For My Son In His Sickness, To One Of His School fellows.</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I little thought that honest Dick<br>Would slight me so, when I was sick.<br>Is he a Friend, who only stays,<br>Whilst Health and Pleasure gild our Days;<br>Flies, when Disease our Temper sours,<br>Nor helps to pass the gloomy Hours?</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Says my Mamma, who loves to make<br>Reflections for her Childrens sake;<br>You see how mortal Friendship ends--<br>My Child, secure celestial Friends:<br>Make Heav'n your chief, your early Care;<br>You'll meet no Disappointment there.<br>Build not on Length of Days, my Son;<br>Life's longest Race is quickly run.<br>Lay hold on ev'ry coming Hour;<br>Do all the Good that's in your Pow'r:<br>This will the sinking Heart sustain,<br>When Cordials are dispens'd in vain;<br>Asswage the racking Pains, that seize<br>On Limbs devoted to Disease;<br>The Place of fleeting Friends supply;<br>Pour balmy Slumbers on thine Eye;<br>Shield thee from Terrors of the Night,<br>And wing thy Pray'rs to Realms of Light;<br>Thy ev'ry painful Care dismiss,<br>And crown thee with eternal Bliss.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Mary+Barber">Mary Barber</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=455576" data-title="Written For My Son In His Sickness, To One Of His School fellows. de Mary Barber" data-description="I little thought that honest Dick
Would slight me so, when I was sick.
Is he a Friend, who only stays,
Whilst Health and Pleasure gild our Days;
Flies, when Disease our Temper sours,
Nor helps to pass the gloomy Hours?

Says my Mamma, who loves to..."></div>
</div>
</div>