text_original: i8 THE YEARS ARE NOUGHT. In wonder spoke those sweet, sweet lips — How many a year ago ! — As she named the name of a stranger boy, In a cadence soft and low. She has forgotten the passing thought, Forgotten the passing name ; But to me the years are nought, are nought. And the sweet voice sounds the same.
text_transcription: THE YEARS ARE NOT IN WONDER SPOKE THOSE SWEET SWEET LIPS HOW MANY A YEAR AGO HAS SHE NAMED THE NAME OF A STRANGER BOY IN A CADENCE SOFT AND LOW SHE HAS FORGOTTEN THE PASSING THOUGHT FORGOTTEN THE PASSING NAME BUT TO ME THE YEARS ARE NOT ARE NOT AND THE SWEET VOICE SOUNDS THE SAME
phonemes: ˈaɪ ˈeɪt ðə jˈɪɹz ɑːɹ nˈɔːt. ɪn wˈʌndɚ spˈoʊk ðoʊz swˈiːt, swˈiːt lˈɪps — hˌaʊ mˈɛni ɐ jˈɪɹ ɐɡˈoʊ ! — æz ʃiː nˈeɪmd ðə nˈeɪm əvə stɹˈeɪndʒɚ bˈɔɪ, ɪn ɐ kˈeɪdəns sˈɔft ænd lˈoʊ. ʃiː hɐz fɚɡˈɑːʔn̩ ðə pˈæsɪŋ θˈɔːt, fɚɡˈɑːʔn̩ ðə pˈæsɪŋ nˈeɪm ; bˌʌt tə mˌiː ðə jˈɪɹz ɑːɹ nˈɔːt, ɑːɹ nˈɔːt. ænd ðə swˈiːt vˈɔɪs sˈaʊndz ðə sˈeɪm.