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=536227" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Disabled</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark, <br>And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey, <br>Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park <br>Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn, <br>Voices of play and pleasure after day, <br>Till gathering sleep had mothered them from him. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">About this time Town used to swing so gay <br>When glow-lamps budded in the light blue trees, <br>And girls glanced lovelier as the air grew dim,- <br>In the old times, before he threw away his knees. <br>Now he will never feel again how slim <br>Girls' waists are, or how warm their subtle hands. <br>All of them touch him like some queer disease. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">There was an artist silly for his face, <br>For it was younger than his youth, last year. <br>Now, he is old; his back will never brace; <br>He's lost his colour very far from here, <br>Poured it down shell-holes till the veins ran dry, <br>And half his lifetime lapsed in the hot race <br>And leap of purple spurted from his thigh. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">One time he liked a blood-smear down his leg, <br>After the matches, carried shoulder-high. <br>It was after football, when he'd drunk a peg, <br>He thought he'd better join. - He wonders why. <br>Someone had said he'd look a god in kilts, <br>That's why; and maybe, too, to please his Meg, <br>Aye, that was it, to please the giddy jilts <br>He asked to join. He didn't have to beg; <br>Smiling they wrote his lie: aged nineteen years. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Germans he scarcely thought of; all their guilt, <br>And Austria's, did not move him. And no fears <br>Of Fear came yet. He drought of jewelled hills <br>For daggers in plaid socks; of smart salutes; <br>And care of arms; and leave; and pay arrears; <br>Esprit de corps; and hints for young recruits. <br>And soon, he was drafted out with drums and cheers. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Some cheered him home, but not as crowds cheer Goal. <br>Only a solemn man who brought him fruits <br>Thanked him; and then enquired about his soul. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">Now, he will spend a few sick years in institutes, <br>And do what things the rules consider wise, <br>And take whatever pity they may dole. <br>Tonight he noticed how the women's eyes <br>Passed from him to the strong men that were whole. <br>How cold and late it is! Why don't they come <br>And put him into bed? Why don't they come?</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Wilfred+Owen">Wilfred Owen</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=536227" data-title="Disabled de Wilfred Owen" data-description="He sat in a wheeled chair, waiting for dark, 
And shivered in his ghastly suit of grey, 
Legless, sewn short at elbow. Through the park 
Voices of boys rang saddening like a hymn, 
Voices of play and pleasure after day, 
Till gathering sleep had m..."></div>
</div>
</div>