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 For ever, since my childish looks Could rest on Nature's pictured books; For ever, since my childish tongue Could name the themes our bards have sung; So long, the sweetness of their singing Hath been to me a rapture bringing! Yet ask me not the reason why I have delight in minstrelsy. I know that much whereof I sing, Is shapen but for vanishing; I know that summer's flower and leaf And shine and shade are very brief, And that the heart they brighten, may, Before them all, be sheathed in clay! -- I do not know the reason why I have delight in minstrelsy. A few there are, whose smile and praise My minstrel hope, would kindly raise: But, of those few -- Death may impress The lips of some with silentness; While some may friendship's faith resign, And heed no more a song of mine. -- Ask not, ask not the reason why I have delight in minstrelsy. The sweetest song that minstrels sing, Will charm not Joy to tarrying; The greenest bay that earth can grow, Will shelter not in burning woe; A thousand voices will not cheer, When one is mute that aye is dear! -- Is there, alas! no reason why I have delight in minstrelsy. I do not know! The turf is green Beneath the rain's fast-dropping sheen, Yet asks not why that deeper hue Doth all its tender leaves renew; -- And I, like-minded, am content, While music to my soul is sent, To question not the reason why I have delight in minstrelsy. Years pass -- my life with them shall pass: And soon, the cricket in the grass And summer bird, shall louder sing Than she who owns a minstrel's string. Oh then may some, the dear and few, Recall her love, whose truth they knew; When all forget to question why She had delight in minstrelsy!
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