Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
The Troop Ship
Grotesque and queerly huddled
Contortionists to twist
The sleepy soul to a sleep,
We lie all sorts of ways
And cannot sleep.
The wet wind is so cold,
And the lurching men so careless,
That, should you drop to a doze,
Winds' fumble or men's feet
Are on your face.
poem
by
Isaac Rosenberg
solid border
dashed border
dotted border
double border
groove border
ridge border
inset border
outset border
no border
blue
green
red
purple
cyan
gold
silver
black