text_original: The glory of the sunset past Still gleams upon the water there, But all its splendor cannot match The wind blown brightness of your hair ; Not any sea maid's floating locks Of gold are half so fair.
text_transcription: THE GLORY OF THE SUNSET PAST STILL GLEAMS UPON THE WATER THERE BUT ALL ITS SPLENDOR CANNOT MATCH THE WIND BLOWN BRIGHTNESS OF YOUR HAIR NOT ANY SEA MAID'S FLOATING LOCKS OF GOLD ARE HALF SO FAIR
phonemes: ðə ɡlˈɔːɹi ʌvðə sˈʌnsɛt pˈæst stˈɪl ɡlˈiːmz əpˌɑːn ðə wˈɔːɾɚ ðˈɛɹ, bˌʌt ˈɔːl ɪts splˈɛndɚ kænˈɑːt mˈætʃ ðə wˈɪnd blˈoʊn bɹˈaɪtnəs ʌv jʊɹ hˈɛɹ ; nˌɑːt ˌɛni sˈiː mˈeɪdz flˈoʊɾɪŋ lˈɑːks ʌv ɡˈoʊld ɑːɹ hˈæf sˌoʊ fˈɛɹ.