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 ("Accourez tous, oiseaux de proie!") {VII., September, 1825.} Ho! hither flock, ye fowls of prey! Ye wolves of war, make no delay! For foemen 'neath our blades shall fall Ere night may veil with purple pall. The evening psalms are nearly o'er, And priests who follow in our train Have promised us the final gain, And filled with faith our valiant corps. Let orphans weep, and widows brood! To-morrow we shall wash the blood Off saw-gapped sword and lances bent, So, close the ranks and fire the tent! And chill yon coward cavalcade With brazen bugles blaring loud, E'en though our chargers' neighing proud Already has the host dismayed. Spur, horsemen, spur! the charge resounds! On Gaelic spear the Northman bounds! Through helmet plumes the arrows flit, And plated breasts the pikeheads split. The double-axe fells human oaks, And like the thistles in the field See bristling up (where none must yield!) The points hewn off by sweeping strokes! We, heroes all, our wounds disdain; Dismounted now, our horses slain, Yet we advance—more courage show, Though stricken, seek to overthrow The victor-knights who tread in mud The writhing slaves who bite the heel, While on caparisons of steel The maces thunder—cudgels thud! Should daggers fail hide-coats to shred, Seize each your man and hug him dead! Who falls unslain will only make A mouthful to the wolves who slake Their month-whet thirst. No captives, none! We die or win! but should we die, The lopped-off hand will wave on high The broken brand to hail the sun!
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