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 [Pg 34] SESTINA II Giovane donna sott' un verde lauro. THOUGH DESPAIRING OF PITY, HE VOWS TO LOVE HER UNTO DEATH. A youthful lady 'neath a laurel greenWas seated, fairer, colder than the snowOn which no sun has shone for many years:Her sweet speech, her bright face, and flowing hairSo pleased, she yet is present to my eyes,And aye must be, whatever fate prevail. These my fond thoughts of her shall fade and failWhen foliage ceases on the laurel green;Nor calm can be my heart, nor check'd these eyesUntil the fire shall freeze, or burns the snow:Easier upon my head to count each hairThan, ere that day shall dawn, the parting years. But, since time flies, and roll the rapid years,And death may, in the midst, of life, assail,With full brown locks, or scant and silver hair,I still the shade of that sweet laurel greenFollow, through fiercest sun and deepest snow,Till the last day shall close my weary eyes. Oh! never sure were seen such brilliant eyes,In this our age or in the older years,Which mould and melt me, as the sun melts snow,Into a stream of tears adown the vale,Watering the hard roots of that laurel green,Whose boughs are diamonds and gold whose hair. I fear that Time my mien may change and hair,Ere, with true pity touch'd, shall greet my eyesMy idol imaged in that laurel green:For, unless memory err, through seven long yearsTill now, full many a shore has heard my wail,By night, at noon, in summer and in snow. Thus fire within, without the cold, cold snow,Alone, with these my thoughts and her bright hair,Alway and everywhere I bear my ail,Haply to find some mercy in the eyesOf unborn nations and far future years,If so long flourishes our laurel green. [Pg 35]The gold and topaz of the sun on snowAre shamed by the bright hair above those eyes,Searing the short green of my life's vain years. Macgregor.
Enter Author Name (Not Required)
[Pg 34]