Free online greeting card maker or poetry art generator. Create free custom printable greeting cards or art from photos and text online. Use PoetrySoup's free online software to make greeting cards from poems, quotes, or your own words. Generate memes, cards, or poetry art for any occasion; weddings, anniversaries, holidays, etc (See examples here). Make a card to show your loved one how special they are to you. Once you make a card, you can email it, download it, or share it with others on your favorite social network site like Facebook. Also, you can create shareable and downloadable cards from poetry on PoetrySoup. Use our poetry search engine to find the perfect poem, and then click the camera icon to create the card or art.
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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required You will be mine; those lightly dancing feet, Falling as softly on the careless street As the wind-loosened petals of a flower, Will bring you here, at the Appointed Hour. And all the Temple's little links and laws Will not for long protect your loveliness. I have a stronger force to aid my cause, Nature's great Law, to love and to possess! Throughout those sleepless watches, when I lay Wakeful, desiring what I might not see, I knew (it helped those hours, from dusk to day), In this one thing, Fate would be kind to me. You will consent, through all my veins like wine This prescience flows; your lips meet mine above, Your clear soft eyes look upward into mine Dim in a silent ecstasy of love. The clustered softness of your waving hair, That curious paleness which enchants me so, And all your delicate strength and youthful air, Destiny will compel you to bestow! Refuse, withdraw, and hesitate awhile, Your young reluctance does but fan the flame; My partner, Love, waits, with a tender smile, Who play against him play a losing game. I, strong in nothing else, have strength in this, The subtlest, most resistless, force we know Is aiding me; and you must stoop and kiss: The genius of the race will have it so! Yet, make it not too long, nor too intense My thirst; lest I should break beneath the strain, And the worn nerves, and over-wearied sense, Enjoy not what they spent themselves to gain. Lest, in the hour when you consent to share That human passion Beauty makes divine, I, over worn, should find you over fair, Lest I should die before I make you mine. You will consent, those slim, reluctant feet, Falling as lightly on the careless street As the white petals of a wind-worn flower, Will bring you here, at the Appointed Hour.
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