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 "Hullo, young Jones! with your tie so gay And your pen behind your ear; Will you mark my cheque in the usual way? For I'm overdrawn, I fear." Then you look at me in a manner bland, As you turn your ledger's leaves, And you hand it back with a soft white hand, And the air of a man who grieves. . . . "Was it you, young Jones, was it you I saw (And I think I see you yet) With a live bomb gripped in your grimy paw And your face to the parapet? With your lips asnarl and your eyes gone mad With a fury that thrilled you through. . . . Oh, I look at you now and I think, my lad, Was it you, young Jones, was it you? "Hullo, young Smith, with your well-fed look And your coat of dapper fit, Will you recommend me a decent book With nothing of War in it?" Then you smile as you polish a finger-nail, And your eyes serenely roam, And you suavely hand me a thrilling tale By a man who stayed at home. "Was it you, young Smith, was it you I saw In the battle's storm and stench, With a roar of rage and a wound red-raw Leap into the reeking trench? As you stood like a fiend on the firing-shelf And you stabbed and hacked and slew. . . . Oh, I look at you and I ask myself, Was it you, young Smith, was it you? "Hullo, old Brown, with your ruddy cheek And your tummy's rounded swell, Your garden's looking jolly chic And your kiddies awf'ly well. Then you beam at me in your cheery way As you swing your water-can; And you mop your brow and you blithely say: `What about golf, old man?' "Was it you, old Brown, was it you I saw Like a bull-dog stick to your gun, A cursing devil of fang and claw When the rest were on the run? Your eyes aflame with the battle-hate. . . . As you sit in the family pew, And I see you rising to pass the plate, I ask: Old Brown, was it you? "Was it me and you? Was it you and me? (Is that grammar, or is it not?) Who groveled in filth and misery, Who gloried and groused and fought? Which is the wrong and which is the right? Which is the false and the true? The man of peace or the man of fight? Which is the ME and the YOU?"
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