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=473230" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Ballade De Marguerite</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">(NORMANDE.) </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> I AM weary of lying within the chase<br> When the knights are meeting in market-place.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Nay, go not thou to the red-roofed town<br> Lest the hooves of the war-horse tread thee down.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But I would not go where the Squires ride,<br> I would only walk by my Lady's side.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Alack! and alack! thou art over bold,<br> A Forester's son may not eat off gold.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Will she love me the less that my Father is seen,<br> Each Martinmas day in a doublet green? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Perchance she is sewing at tapestrie,<br> Spindle and loom are not meet for thee.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Ah, if she is working the arras bright<br> I might ravel the threads by the fire-light.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Perchance she is hunting of the deer,<br> How could you follow o'er hill and meer? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Ah, if she is riding with the court,<br> I might run beside her and wind the morte.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Perchance she is kneeling in S. Denys,<br> (On her soul may our Lady have gramercy!) </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Ah, if she is praying in lone chapelle,<br> I might swing the censer and ring the bell.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Come in my son, for you look sae pale,<br> The father shall fill thee a stoup of ale.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But who are these knights in bright array? <br> Is it a pageant the rich folks play? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> 'Tis the King of England from over sea,<br> Who has come unto visit our fair countrie.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But why does the curfew toll sae low<br> And why do the mourners walk a-row? </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O 'tis Hugh of Amiens my sister's son<br> Who is lying stark, for his day is done.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Nay, nay, for I see white lilies clear,<br> It is no strong man who lies on the bier.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O 'tis old Dame Jeannette that kept the hall,<br> I knew she would die at the autumn fall.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Dame Jeannette had not that gold-brown hair,<br> Old Jeannette was not a maiden fair.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O 'tis none of our kith and none of our kin,<br> (Her soul may our Lady assoil from sin!) </div><div style="margin:10px 0"> But I hear the boy's voice chaunting sweet,<br> 'Elle est morte, la Marguerite.'</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> Come in my son and lie on the bed,<br> And let the dead folk bury their dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"> O mother, you know I loved her true:<br> O mother, hath one grave room for two?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Oscar+Wilde">Oscar Wilde</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=473230" data-title="Ballade De Marguerite de Oscar Wilde" data-description="(NORMANDE.) 

 I AM weary of lying within the chase
 When the knights are meeting in market-place.

 Nay, go not thou to the red-roofed town
 Lest the hooves of the war-horse tread thee down.

 But I would not go where the Squires ride,
 I would o..."></div>
</div>
</div>