text_original: 53 A LOST GIFT. It is hard to believe that such things be,  You may take it for what it is worth ; For she that came and talked to me, Was not of the race of earth. But I stained my soul, as 't is easy to see. With the touch of the common clay ; And the earth and the sky grew empty for me, And their gift was taken away.
text_transcription: A LOST GIFT IT IS HARD TO BELIEVE THAT SUCH THINGS BE YOU MAY TAKE IT FOR WHAT IT IS WORTH FOR SHE THAT CAME AND TALKED TO ME WAS NOT OF THE RACE OF EARTH BUT I STAINED MY SOUL AND TIS EASY TO SEE WITH THE TOUCH OF THE COMMON CLAY AND THE EARTH AND THE SKY GREW EMPTY FOR ME AND THEIR GIFT WAS TAKEN AWAY
phonemes: fˈɪfti θɹˈiː ɐ lˈɔst ɡˈɪft. ɪɾ ɪz hˈɑːɹd tə bᵻlˈiːv ðæt sˈʌtʃ θˈɪŋz bˈiː,  juː mˈeɪ tˈeɪk ɪt fɔːɹ wʌt ɪɾ ɪz wˈɜːθ ; fɔːɹ ʃiː ðæt kˈeɪm ænd tˈɔːkt tə mˌiː, wʌz nˌɑːt ʌvðə ɹˈeɪs ʌv ˈɜːθ. bˌʌt aɪ stˈeɪnd maɪ sˈoʊl, æz tˈiː ɪz ˈiːzi tə sˈiː. wɪððə tˈʌtʃ ʌvðə kˈɑːmən klˈeɪ ; ænd ðɪ ˈɜːθ ænd ðə skˈaɪ ɡɹˈuː ˈɛmpti fɔːɹ mˌiː, ænd ðɛɹ ɡˈɪft wʌz tˈeɪkən ɐwˈeɪ.