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Greeting Card Maker | Poem Art Generator

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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I'm a helpless cripple child, Gentle Christians, pity me; Once, in rosy health I smiled, Blithe and gay as you can be, And upon the village green First in every sport was seen. Now, alas! I'm weak and low, Cannot either work or play; Tottering on my crutches, slow, Thus I drag my weary way: Now no longer dance and sing, Gaily, in the merry ring. Many sleepless nights I live, Turning on my weary bed; Softest pillows cannot give Slumber to my aching head; Constant anguish makes it fly From my heavy, wakeful eye. And, when morning beams return, Still no comfort beams for me: Still my limbs with fever burn, Painful still my crippled knee. And another tedious day Passes slow and sad away. From my chamber-window high, Lifted to my easy-chair, I the village-green can spy, Once I used to frolic there, March, or beat my new-bought drum; Happy times! no more to come. There I see my fellows gay, Sporting on the daisied turf, And, amidst their cheerful play, Stopp'd by many a merry laugh; But the sight I scarce can bear, Leaning in my easy-chair. Let not then the scoffing eye Laugh, my twisted leg to see: Gentle Christians, passing by, Stop awhile, and pity me, And for you I'll breathe a prayer, Leaning in my easy-chair.

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The Little Cripples Complaint

I'm a helpless cripple child,
Gentle Christians, pity me;
Once, in rosy health I smiled,
Blithe and gay as you can be,
And upon the village green
First in every sport was seen.

Now, alas! I'm weak and low,
Cannot either work or play;
Tottering on my crutches, slow,
Thus I drag my weary way:
Now no longer dance and sing,
Gaily, in the merry ring.

Many sleepless nights I live,
Turning on my weary bed;
Softest pillows cannot give
Slumber to my aching head;
Constant anguish makes it fly
From my heavy, wakeful eye.

And, when morning beams return,
Still no comfort beams for me:
Still my limbs with fever burn,
Painful still my crippled knee.

And another tedious day
Passes slow and sad away.

From my chamber-window high,
Lifted to my easy-chair,
I the village-green can spy,
Once I used to frolic there,
March, or beat my new-bought drum;
Happy times! no more to come.

There I see my fellows gay,
Sporting on the daisied turf,
And, amidst their cheerful play,
Stopp'd by many a merry laugh;
But the sight I scarce can bear,
Leaning in my easy-chair.

Let not then the scoffing eye
Laugh, my twisted leg to see:
Gentle Christians, passing by,
Stop awhile, and pity me,
And for you I'll breathe a prayer,
Leaning in my easy-chair.

Written by: Ann Taylor