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=530235" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>The Kosa</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530235" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The free-born Kosa still doth hold<br>The fields his fathers held of old;<br>With club and spear, in jocund ranks,<br>Still hunts the elk by Chumi's banks:<br>By Keisi's meads his herds are lowing;<br>On Debè's slopes his gardens glowing,<br>Where laughing maids at sunset roam,<br>To bear the juicy melons home:<br>And striplings from Kalumna's wood<br>Bring wild grapes and the pigeon's brood,<br>With fragrant hoard of honey-bee<br>Rifled from the hollow tree:<br>And herdsmen shout from rock to rock;<br>And through the glen the hamlets smoke;<br>And children gambol round the kraal,<br>To greet their sires at evening-fall:<br>And matrons sweep the cabin floor,<br>And spread the mat beside the door,<br>And with dry fagots wake the flame<br>To dress the wearied huntsmen's game.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530235" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Bright gleams the fire: its ruddy blaze<br>On many a dusky visage plays.<br>On forkèd twigs the game is drest;<br>The neighbours share the simple feast:<br>The honey-mead, the millet-ale,<br>Flow round -- and flow the jest and tale;<br>Wild legends of the ancient day,<br>Of hunting feat, of warlike fray;<br>And now come smiles, and now come sighs,<br>As mirth and grief alternate rise.<br>Or should a sterner strain awake,<br>Like sudden flame in summer-brake,<br>Bursts fiercely forth in battle song<br>The tale of Amakósa's wrong;<br>Throbs every warrior bosom high,<br>With lightning flashes every eye,<br>And, in wild cadence, rings the sound<br>Of barbèd javelins clashing round.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530235" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">But lo, like a broad shield on high,<br>The moon gleams in the midnight sky.<br>'Tis time to part: the watch-dog's bay<br>Beside the folds has died away.<br>'Tis time to rest: the mat is spread,<br>The hardy hunter's simple bed:<br>His wife her dreaming infant hushes<br>On the low cabin's couch of rushes;<br>Softly he draws its door of hide,<br>And, stretched by his Gulúwi's side,<br>Sleeps soundly till the peep of dawn<br>Wakes on the hills the dappled fawn;<br>Then forth again he gaily bounds,<br>With club and spear and questing hounds.</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=Thomas+Pringle">Thomas Pringle</a></strong></div>