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=508645" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Shiela</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">When I played my penny whistle on the braes above Lochgyle<br>The heather bloomed about us, and we heard the peewit call;<br>As you bent above your knitting something fey was in your smile,<br>And fine and soft and slow the rain made silver on your shawl.<br>Your cheeks were pink like painted cheeks, your eyes a pansy blue . . .<br>My heart was in my playing, but my music was for you.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">And now I play he organ in this lordly London town;<br>I play the lovely organ with a thousand folks in view.<br>They're wearing silk and satin, but I see a woolen gown,<br>And my heart's not in my music, for I'm thinking, lass, of you;<br>When you listened to a barefoot boy, who piped of ancient pain,<br>And your ragged shawl was pearly in the sweet, shy rain.</div><div style="margin:10px 0">I'll play them mighty music - O I'll make them stamp and cheer;<br>I'll give the best that's in me, but I'll give it all for you.<br>I'll put my whole heart in it, for I feel that you are near,<br>Not yonder, sleeping always, where the peat is white with dew.<br>But I'll never live the rapture of the shepherd boy the while<br>I trilled for you my whistle on the braes above Lochgyle.</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=508645" data-title="Shiela de Robert William Service" data-description="When I played my penny whistle on the braes above Lochgyle
The heather bloomed about us, and we heard the peewit call;
As you bent above your knitting something fey was in your smile,
And fine and soft and slow the rain made silver on your shawl.
..."></div>
</div>
</div>