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 (To Sylvia.) My Love, my Love, it was a day in June, A mellow, drowsy, golden afternoon; And all the eager people thronging came To that great hall, drawn by the magic name Of one, a high magician, who can raise The spirits of the past and future days, And draw the dreams from out the secret breast, Giving them life and shape. I, with the rest, Sat there athirst, atremble for the sound; And as my aimless glances wandered round, Far off, across the hush'd, expectant throng, I saw your face that fac'd mine. Clear and strong Rush'd forth the sound, a mighty mountain stream; Across the clust'ring heads mine eyes did seem By subtle forces drawn, your eyes to meet. Then you, the melody, the summer heat, Mingled in all my blood and made it wine. Straight I forgot the world's great woe and mine; My spirit's murky lead grew molten fire; Despair itself was rapture. Ever higher, Stronger and clearer rose the mighty strain; Then sudden fell; then all was still again, And I sank back, quivering as one in pain. Brief was the pause; then, 'mid a hush profound, Slow on the waiting air swell'd forth a sound So wondrous sweet that each man held his breath; A measur'd, mystic melody of death. Then back you lean'd your head, and I could note The upward outline of your perfect throat; And ever, as the music smote the air, Mine eyes from far held fast your body fair. And in that wondrous moment seem'd to fade My life's great woe, and grow an empty shade Which had not been, nor was not. And I knew Not which was sound, and which, O Love, was you.
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