text_original: Oh ! how will it be in twenty years — Will the gloss be faded and threads be bare, Will scorn be born and weariness come — The love of to day that shews so fair ? Or deeper and fuller, as life flows fast. With the passionate colours grown more fine. With the dross burnt out in the trials past. And the pure gold left of the love divine
text_transcription: OH HOW WILL IT BE IN TWENTY YEARS WILL THE GLOSS BE FADED AND THREADS BE BARE WILL SCORN BE BORN AND WEARINESS COME THE LOVE OF TO DAY THAT SHEWES SO FAIR OR DEEPER AND FULLER AS LIFE FLOWS FAST WITH THE PASSIONATE COLOURS GROWN MORE FINE WITH THE DROSS BURNT OUT IN THE TRIALS PAST AND THE PURE GOLD LEFT OF THE LOVE DIVINE
phonemes: ˈoʊ ! hˌaʊ wɪl ɪt biː ɪn twˈɛnti jˈɪɹz — wɪl ðə ɡlˈɔs biː fˈeɪdᵻd ænd θɹˈɛdz biː bˈɛɹ, wɪl skˈɔːɹn biː bˈɔːɹn ænd wˈɪɹinəs kˈʌm — ðə lˈʌv ʌv tə dˈeɪ ðæt ʃˈoʊz sˌoʊ fˈɛɹ ? ɔːɹ dˈiːpɚ ænd fˈʊlɚ, æz lˈaɪf flˈoʊz fˈæst. wɪððə pˈæʃənət kˈʌlɚz ɡɹˈoʊn mˈɔːɹ fˈaɪn. wɪððə dɹˈɔs bˈɜːnt ˈaʊt ɪnðə tɹˈaɪəlz pˈæst. ænd ðə pjˈʊɹ ɡˈoʊld lˈɛft ʌvðə lˈʌv dᵻvˈaɪn