text_original: On such an eve the heart doth grow Full of surmise, and scarce can know If it be now or long ago, Or if indeed it doth exist;   A wonderful enchanted mist From the new moon doth wander out, Wrapping all things in mystic doubt, So that this world doth seem untrue, And all our fancies to take hue From some life ages since gone through.
text_transcription: ON SUCH AN EVE THE HEART DOTH GROW FULL OF SURMISE AND SCARCE CAN KNOW IF IT BE NOW OR LONG AGO OR IF INDEED IT DOTH EXIST A WONDERFUL ENCHANTED MIST FROM THE NEW MOON DOTH WANDER OUT WRAPPING ALL THINGS IN MYSTIC DOUBT SO THAT THIS WORLD DOTH SEEM UNTRUE AND ALL OUR FANCIES TO TAKE HUE FROM SOME LIFE AGES SINCE GONE THROUGH
phonemes: ˌɔn sˈʌtʃ ɐn ˈiːv ðə hˈɑːɹt dʌθ ɡɹˈoʊ fˈʊl ʌv sɚmˈaɪz, ænd skˈɛɹs kæn nˈoʊ ɪf ɪt biː nˈaʊ ɔːɹ lˈɔŋ ɐɡˈoʊ, ɔːɹ ɪf ˌɪndˈiːd ɪt dʌθ ɛɡzˈɪst;   ɐ wˈʌndɚfəl ɛntʃˈæntᵻd mˈɪst fɹʌmðə nˈuː mˈuːn dʌθ wˈɔndɚɹ ˈaʊt, ɹˈæpɪŋ ˈɔːl θˈɪŋz ɪn mˈɪstɪk dˈaʊt, sˌoʊ ðæt ðɪs wˈɜːld dʌθ sˈiːm ʌntɹˈuː, ænd ˈɔːl ˌaʊɚ fˈænsiz tə tˈeɪk hjˈuː fɹʌm sˌʌm lˈaɪf ˈeɪdʒᵻz sˈɪns ɡɔn θɹˈuː.