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=539438" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Her Epitaph</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=539438" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Happy Grave, thou dost enshrine<br>That which makes thee a rich mine:<br>Remember yet, 'tis but a loane;<br>And wee must have it back, Her owne,<br>The very same; Marke mee, the same:<br>Thou canst not cheat us with a lame<br>Deformed Carcase; Shee was fayre,<br>Fresh as Morning, sweete as Ayre:<br>Purer than other flesh as farre<br>As other Soules than Bodies are:<br>And that thou mayst the better see<br>To finde her out: two stars there bee<br>Eclipsed now; uncloude but those<br>And they will poynt thee to the Rose<br>That dyde each cheeke, now pale and wan,<br>But will bee when shee wakes againe<br>Fresher than ever: And howere<br>Her long sleepe may alter Her<br>Her Soule will know her Body streight,<br>Twas made so fitt for't. Noe deceite<br>Can suite another to it: none<br>Cloath it so neatly as its owne.</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=William+Strode">William Strode</a></strong></div>