Click in the field, then press CTRL+C to copy the HTML code
A Mare
The mare is one,
Numerous are the riders
To ride on,
They ride on turn by turn,
By whipping her
Through the glades,
Forest and desert,
And all paths of wilderness,
Sometimes on serpentine routes
Through the mountains,
Caring least her needs,
Except a change of saddle,
They make on each ride.
After having ridden the beast
They go aboard,
Wait for their own next turn again,
Leaving her behind in trouble and pain.
poem
by
Muhammad Shanazar
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