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=530038" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Parallel</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yes, sad one of Sion, if closely resembling, <br>In shame and in sorrow, thy wither'd-up heart -- <br>If drinking deep, deep, of the same &quot;cup of trembling&quot; <br>Could make us thy children, our parent thou art. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like thee doth our nation lie conquer'd and broken, <br>And fall'n from her head is the once royal crown; <br>In her streets, in her halls, Desolation hath spoken, <br>And &quot;while it is day yet, her sun hath gone down.&quot;</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Like thine doth her exile, 'mid dreams of returning, <br>Die far from the home it were life to behold; <br>Like thine do her sons, in the day of their mourning <br>Remember the bright things that bless'd them of old. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Ah, well may we call her, like thee, &quot;the Forsaken,&quot;<br>Her boldest are vanquish'd, her proudest are slaves; <br>And the harps of her minstrels, when gayest they waken, <br>Have tones 'mid their mirth like the wind over graves! </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Yet hadst thou thy vengeance -- yet came there the morrow, <br>That shines out, at last, on the longest dark night, <br>When the sceptre, that smote thee with slavery and sorrow, <br>Was shiver'd at once, like a reed, in thy sight. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When that cup, which for others the proud Golden City<br>Had brimm'd full of bitterness, drench'd her own lips; <br>And the world she had trampled on heard, without pity, <br>The howl in her halls, and the cry from her ships. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">When the curse Heaven keeps for the haughty came over, <br>Her merchants rapacious, her rulers unjust, <br>And a ruin at last for the earthworm to cover,<br>The Lady of Kingdoms lay low in the dust.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Thomas+Moore">Thomas Moore</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=530038" data-title="The Parallel de Thomas Moore" data-description="Yes, sad one of Sion, if closely resembling, 
In shame and in sorrow, thy wither'd-up heart -- 
If drinking deep, deep, of the same &quot;cup of trembling&quot; 
Could make us thy children, our parent thou art. 

Like thee doth our nation lie conq..."></div>
</div>
</div>