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 HAIL, Poesie! thou Nymph reserv’d! In chase o’ thee, what crowds hae swerv’d Frae common sense, or sunk enerv’d ’Mang heaps o’ clavers: And och! o’er aft thy joes hae starv’d, ’Mid a’ thy favours! Say, Lassie, why, thy train amang, While loud the trump’s heroic clang, And sock or buskin skelp alang To death or marriage; Scarce ane has tried the shepherd-sang But wi’ miscarriage? In Homer’s craft Jock Milton thrives; Eschylus’ pen Will Shakespeare drives; Wee Pope, the knurlin’, till him rives Horatian fame; In thy sweet sang, Barbauld, survives Even Sappho’s flame. But thee, Theocritus, wha matches? They’re no herd’s ballats, Maro’s catches; Squire Pope but busks his skinklin’ patches O’ heathen tatters: I pass by hunders, nameless wretches, That ape their betters. In this braw age o’ wit and lear, Will nane the Shepherd’s whistle mair Blaw sweetly in its native air, And rural grace; And, wi’ the far-fam’d Grecian, share A rival place? Yes! there is ane; a Scottish callan! There’s ane; come forrit, honest Allan! Thou need na jouk behint the hallan, A chiel sae clever; The teeth o’ time may gnaw Tantallan, But thou’s for ever. Thou paints auld Nature to the nines, In thy sweet Caledonian lines; Nae gowden stream thro’ myrtle twines, Where Philomel, While nightly breezes sweep the vines, Her griefs will tell! In gowany glens thy burnie strays, Where bonie lasses bleach their claes, Or trots by hazelly shaws and braes, Wi’ hawthorns gray, Where blackbirds join the shepherd’s lays, At close o’ day. Thy rural loves are Nature’s sel’; Nae bombast spates o’ nonsense swell; Nae snap conceits, but that sweet spell O’ witchin love, That charm that can the strongest quell, The sternest move.
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