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=460395" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>0009 Mild And Bitter Thoughts</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">and I'm sitting in the pub, <br>fruitful source of people-watching verse, <br>(Jake will know it) <br>collecting the strength to walking-stick home<br>or that's the story, <br>chilling out, <br>glass half empty, <br>heart half full, <br>a benign haze of love<br>for all the people in the pub<br>mingling with an universal love<br>suspectly</div><div style="margin:10px 0">opposite, two sepia photographs<br>of local scenes, which the thoughtful pub chain<br>use to decorate the walls: <br>both are of the local, semi-rural, Tube station; <br>one's from 1905ish so I'd I guess<br>from the floor-length skirts, <br>the birds'-nest hats; I wonder<br>if the ladies felt the need to think<br>dress up? dress down? for this<br>ground-breaking, literally, <br>new form of transport? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">the other's from around the early 1920s: <br>a glimpse of stockinged ankle, gasp, or manly faint..<br>I try to place myself, push my sepia way<br>into gelled history - 1905, and if I still lived round here<br>the house would be brand-new; I -we- would be so proud; <br>newly-married with my stable job, <br>stiff collar rubbing on the neck in summer heat; <br>and just the right age to fight<br>for King And Country in that bitter war<br>that loomed on the expansive, leisurely, secure<br>Edwardian horizon..how did my widow manage<br>with all those children? </div><div style="margin:10px 0">No; I know too much in my born blood<br>of that trench war.. let's look instead<br>at post-war peace - the stiff collar<br>still chafes, but I walk erect<br>still in a bowler hat, a waistcoat, a sense<br>of my place in society, a career<br>of slow but steady rise in just one firm; and<br>it's a toss-up whether I might be<br>still young enough to be called up for<br>my King And Country around 1939, <br>or old enough to be bombed at home...</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The glass is empty and the crisps are done<br>(that sounds like Auden, Eliot, Betjeman?) : <br>I pull myself with sepia suction sound<br>out of the photos into full colour; and<br>still benign and walking steady, <br>take home my fantasies and gratitude.<br>One lifetime at a time - that's quite enough.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Michael+Shepherd">Michael Shepherd</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=460395" data-title="0009 Mild And Bitter Thoughts de Michael Shepherd" data-description="and I'm sitting in the pub, 
fruitful source of people-watching verse, 
(Jake will know it) 
collecting the strength to walking-stick home
or that's the story, 
chilling out, 
glass half empty, 
heart half full, 
a benign haze of love
for all the ..."></div>
</div>
</div>