text_original: DUTY'S PATH Out from the harbour of youth's bay There leads the path of pleasure; With eager steps we walk that way To brim joy's largest measure. But when with morn's departing beam Goes youth's last precious minute, We sigh "'Twas but a fevered dream— There's nothing in it."
text_transcription: TO SUSA OUT FROM THE HARBOUR OF YOUTH'S BAY THERE LEADS THE PATH OF PLEASURE WITH EAGER STEPS WE WALK THAT WAY TO BRIM JOY'S LARGEST MEASURE BUT WHEN WITH MORN'S DEPARTING BEAM GOES YOUTH'S LAST PRECIOUS MINUTE WE SIGH TWAS BUT A FEVERED DREAM THERE'S NOTHING IN IT
phonemes: dˈuːɾiz pˈæθ ˈaʊt fɹʌmðə hˈɑːɹbɚɹ ʌv jˈuːθz bˈeɪ ðɛɹ lˈiːdz ðə pˈæθ ʌv plˈɛʒɚ; wɪð ˈiːɡɚ stˈɛps wiː wˈɔːk ðæt wˈeɪ tə bɹˈɪm dʒˈɔɪz lˈɑːɹdʒɪst mˈɛʒɚ. bˌʌt wɛn wɪð mˈɔːɹnz dᵻpˈɑːɹɾɪŋ bˈiːm ɡoʊz jˈuːθz lˈæst pɹˈɛʃəs mˈɪnɪt, wiː sˈaɪ "twˈɑːz bˌʌt ɐ fˈiːvɚd dɹˈiːm— ðɛɹz nˈʌθɪŋ ɪn ɪt."