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 SONNET XLVIII. Padre del ciel, dopo i perduti giorni. CONSCIOUS OF HIS FOLLY, HE PRAYS GOD TO TURN HIM TO A BETTER LIFE. Father of heaven! after the days misspent,After the nights of wild tumultuous thought,In that fierce passion's strong entanglement,One, for my peace too lovely fair, had wrought;Vouchsafe that, by thy grace, my spirit bentOn nobler aims, to holier ways be brought;That so my foe, spreading with dark intentHis mortal snares, be foil'd, and held at nought.E'en now th' eleventh year its course fulfils,That I have bow'd me to the tyrannyRelentless most to fealty most tried.Have mercy, Lord! on my unworthy ills:Fix all my thoughts in contemplation high;How on the cross this day a Saviour died. Dacre. Father of heaven! despite my days all lost,Despite my nights in doting folly spentWith that fierce passion which my bosom rentAt sight of her, too lovely for my cost;Vouchsafe at length that, by thy grace, I turnTo wiser life, and enterprise more fair,So that my cruel foe, in vain his snareSet for my soul, may his defeat discern.Already, Lord, the eleventh year circling wanesSince first beneath his tyrant yoke I fellWho still is fiercest where we least rebel:Pity my undeserved and lingering pains,[Pg 63]To holier thoughts my wandering sense restore,How on this day his cross thy Son our Saviour bore. Macgregor.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)