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.
Enter Title (Not Required)
Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required ON the bird of air blue-breasted glint the rays of gold, And its shadowy fleece above us waves the forest old, Far through rumorous leagues of midnight stirred by breezes warm. See the old ascetic yonder, ah, poor withered form, Where he crouches wrinkled over by unnumbered years Through the leaves the flakes of moon-fire fall like phantom tears. At the dawn a kingly hunter swept in proud disdain, Like a rainbow torrent scattered flashed his royal train. Now the lonely one unheeded seeks earth’s caverns dim: Never king or prince will robe them radiantly as him ’Mid the deep enfolding darkness follow him, O seer, Where the arrow will is piercing fiery sphere on sphere, Through the blackness leaps and sparkles gold and amethyst, Curling, jetting, and dissolving in a rainbow mist. In the jewel glow and lunar radiance rises there One, a morning star in beauty, young, immortal, fair: Sealed in heavy sleep, the spirit leaves its faded dress, Unto fiery youth returning out of weariness. Music as for one departing, joy as for a king, Sound and swell, and hark! above him cymbals triumphing. Fire, an aureole encircling, suns his brow with gold, Like to one who hails the morning on the mountains old. Open mightier vistas, changing human loves to scorns, And the spears of glory pierce him like a crown of thorns. High and yet more high to freedom as a bird he springs, And the aureole outbreathing, gold and silver wings Plume the brow and crown the seraph: soon his journey done He will pass our eyes that follow, sped beyond the sun. None may know the mystic radiance, King, will there be thine, Far beyond the light enfolded in the dark divine.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)