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=507808" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Man and Wife</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507808" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Tamed by Miltown, we lie on Mother's bed;<br>the rising sun in war paint dyes us red;<br>in broad daylight her gilded bed-posts shine,<br>abandoned, almost Dionysian.<br>At last the trees are green on Marlborough Street,<br>blossoms on our magnolia ignite<br>the morning with their murderous five day's white.<br>All night I've held your hand,<br>as if you had<br>a fourth time faced the kingdom of the mad - <br>its hackneyed speech, its homicidal eye - <br>and dragged me home alive. . . . Oh my Petite,<br>clearest of all God's creatures, still all air and nerve:<br>you were in your twenties, and I, <br>once hand on glass<br>and heart in mouth,<br>outdrank the Rahvs in the heat<br>of Greenwich Village, fainting at your feet - <br>too boiled and shy<br>and poker-faced to make a pass,<br>while the shrill verve<br>of your invective scorched the traditional South.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=507808" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Now twelve years later, you turn your back.<br>Sleepless, you hold<br>your pillow to your hollows like a child,<br>your old-fashioned tirade - <br>loving, rapid, merciless - <br>breaks like the Atlantic Ocean on my head.</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=Robert+Lowell">Robert Lowell</a></strong></div>