text_original: The table is set, the lamp is trimmed, The fire has a ruddy glow That streams like a beacon down the path, To the dusky valley below. There is smiling hope on the pretty face Pressed so close to the pane, And her eyes are like blue violets After a summer rain.
text_transcription: THE TABLE IS SET THE LAMP IS TRIMMED THE FIRE HAS A RUDDY GLOW THAT STREAMS LIKE A BEACON DOWN THE PATH TO THE DUSKY VALLEY BELOW THERE IS SMILING HOPE ON THE PRETTY FACE PRESSED SO CLOSE TO THE PANE AND HER EYES ARE LIKE BLUE VIOLETS AFTER A SUMMER RAIN
phonemes: ðə tˈeɪbəl ɪz sˈɛt, ðə lˈæmp ɪz tɹˈɪmd, ðə fˈaɪɚ hɐz ɐ ɹˈʌdi ɡlˈoʊ ðæt stɹˈiːmz lˈaɪk ɐ bˈiːkən dˌaʊn ðə pˈæθ, tə ðə dˈʌski vˈæli bᵻlˈoʊ. ðɛɹ ɪz smˈaɪlɪŋ hˈoʊp ɔnðə pɹˈɪɾi fˈeɪs pɹˈɛst sˌoʊ klˈoʊs tə ðə pˈeɪn, ænd hɜːɹ ˈaɪz ɑːɹ lˈaɪk blˈuː vˈaɪəlɪts ˈæftɚɹ ɐ sˈʌmɚ ɹˈeɪn.