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://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=419610" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Ingrate</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=419610" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">By night we looked across my field,<br>The tasseled corn was fine to see,<br>The moon was yellow on the rows<br>And seemed so wonderful to me,<br>That with an old provincial pride<br>I praised my moonlit Tennessee,<br>And thought my poor befriended man<br>Would never dare to disagree. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=419610" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>He was a frosty Russian man<br>And wore a bushy Russian beard;<br>He had two furtive faded eyes<br>That some old horror once had seared;<br>I wondered if they ever would<br>Forget the horrors they had feared;<br>Yet when I praised my pleasant field<br>This stupid fellow almost jeered. </a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=419610" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><br>'Your moon shines very well, my friend,<br>Your fields are good enough, I know; <br>At home our fields in the winter-time<br>Were always white, and shining so!<br>Our nights went beautiful like day,<br>And bitter cold our winds would blow;<br>And I remember how it looked,<br>Dear God, my country of the snow!'</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=John+Crowe+Ransom">John Crowe Ransom</a></strong></div>

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