text_original: Oh ! fine ! — into sight when that new world breaks,  And yet perhaps when there, I may wish to be back to the sins and the aches Of this world so tender fair. 154 THE JOY AND PAIN OF IT ALL. Will you ride and ride, when the sun is high, And the strong heat sickens the brain, Will you lay you to sleep beneath the sky.
text_transcription: OH FINE INTO SIGHT WHEN THAT NEW WORLD BREAKS AND YET PERHAPS WHEN THERE I MAY WISH TO BE BACK TO THE SINS AND THE ACHES OF THIS WORLD SO TENDER FAIR THE JOY AND PAIN OF IT ALL WILL YOU RIDE AND RIDE WHEN THE SUN IS HIGH AND THE STRONG HEAT SICKENS THE BRAIN WILL YOU LAY TO SLEEP BENEATH THE SKY
phonemes: ˈoʊ ! fˈaɪn ! — ˌɪntʊ sˈaɪt wɛn ðæt nˈuː wˈɜːld bɹˈeɪks,  ænd jˈɛt pɚhˈæps wɛn ðˈɛɹ, aɪ mˈeɪ wˈɪʃ təbi bˈæk tə ðə sˈɪnz ænd ðɪ ˈeɪkz ʌv ðɪs wˈɜːld sˌoʊ tˈɛndɚ fˈɛɹ. wˈʌnhˈʌndɹɪd fˈɪfti fˈɔːɹ ðə dʒˈɔɪ ænd pˈeɪn ʌv ˌaɪtˈiː ˈɔːl. wɪl juː ɹˈaɪd ænd ɹˈaɪd, wˌɛn ðə sˈʌn ɪz hˈaɪ, ænd ðə stɹˈɔŋ hˈiːt sˈɪkənz ðə bɹˈeɪn, wɪl juː lˈeɪ juː tə slˈiːp bᵻnˌiːθ ðə skˈaɪ.