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=508429" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Little Puddleton</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">I</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let others sing of Empire and of pomp beyond the sea,<br>A song of Little Puddleton is good enough for me,<br>A song of kindly living, and of coming home to tea.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I seldom read the papers, so I don't know what goes on.<br>I go to bed at sunset, and I leap alert at dawn,<br>To gossip with my garden, which I'll have you understand,<br>Is the neatest and the sweetest little garden in the land;<br>A span of sunny quietude, with walls so high and stout,<br>They shut me in from all the world, and shut the whole world out,<br>So that its sad bewilderment seems less than true to me:<br>As placid as a pool I live, as tranquil as a tree;<br>And all its glory I would give for glint of linnet's wings;<br>My cabbages are more to me than continents and kings.<br>Dominion have I of my own, where feud and faction cease,<br>A heaven of tranquillity, a paradise of peace.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">II</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Let continents be bathed in blood and cities leap in flame;<br>The life of Little Puddleton goes on and on the same;<br>Its ritual we follow, as we play a pleasant game.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">The village wortkies sit and smoke their long-stemmed pipes of clay.<br>And cheerily they nod to me, and pass the time of day.<br>We talk of pigs and clover, and the prospect of the crops,<br>And the price of eggs and butter - there the conversation drops.<br>For in a doubt-distracted world I keep the rustic touch;<br>I think it better not to think too deeply nor too much;<br>But just to dream and take delight in all I hear and see,<br>The tinker in the tavern, with his trollop on his knee;<br>The ivied church, the anvil clang, the geese upon the green,<br>The drowsy noon, the hush of eve so holy and screne.<br>This is my world, then back again with heart of joy I go<br>To cottage walls of mellow stain, and garden all aglow.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">III</div><div style="margin:10px 0">For all I've been and all I've seen I have no vain regret<br>One comes to Little Puddleton, contented to forget;<br>Accepting village values, immemorially set.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I did not make this world and so it's not my job to mend;<br>But I have fought for fifty years and now I hear the end;<br>And I am heart-faint from the fight, and claim the right to rest,<br>And dare to hope the last of life will prove to be the best.<br>For there have I four sturdy walls with low and humble thatch,<br>A smiling little orchard and a big potato patch.<br>And so with hoe in hand I stand and mock the dubious sky;<br>let revolution rock the land, serene, secure am I.<br>I grow my simple food, I groom my lettuce and my beans;<br>I feast in colour, form and song, and ask not what it means.<br>Beauty suffiices in itself; then when my strength is spent,<br>like simple hind with empty mind, I cultivate content.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Behold then Little Puddleton, the end of all my dreams.<br>Not much to show for life, I know; yet O how sweet it seems!<br>For when defeated day goes down in carnage in the West,<br>How blesses sanctuary is, and peace and love and rest!</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Robert+William+Service">Robert William Service</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=508429" data-title="Little Puddleton de Robert William Service" data-description="I

Let others sing of Empire and of pomp beyond the sea,
A song of Little Puddleton is good enough for me,
A song of kindly living, and of coming home to tea.

I seldom read the papers, so I don't know what goes on.
I go to bed at sunset, and I le..."></div>
</div>
</div>