text_original: I know it well, our manly years Must be baptized in bitter tears; Full many fountains must run dry That youth has dreamed for long hours by, Choked by convention's siroc blast Or drifting sands of many cares; Slowly they leave us all at last, And cease their flowing unawares.
text_transcription: I KNOW IT WELL OUR MANLY YEARS MUST BE BAPTIZED IN BITTER TEARS FULL MANY FOUNTAINS MUST RUN DRY THAT YOUTH HAS DREAMED FOR LONG HOURS BY CHOKED BY CONVENTION'S SIROC BLAST OR DRIFTING SANDS OF MANY CARES SLOWLY THEY LEAVE US ALL AT LAST AND CEASE THEIR FLOWING UNAWARES
phonemes: aɪ nˈoʊ ɪt wˈɛl, ˌaʊɚ mˈænli jˈɪɹz mˈʌst biː bˈæptaɪzd ɪn bˈɪɾɚ tˈɪɹz; fˈʊl mˈɛni fˈaʊntɪnz mˈʌst ɹˈʌn dɹˈaɪ ðæt jˈuːθ hɐz dɹˈiːmd fɔːɹ lˈɔŋ ˈaʊɚz bˈaɪ, tʃˈoʊkt baɪ kənvˈɛnʃənz sˈɪɹɑːk blˈæst ɔːɹ dɹˈɪftɪŋ sˈændz ʌv mˈɛni kˈɛɹz; slˈoʊli ðeɪ lˈiːv ˌʌs ˈɔːl æt lˈæst, ænd sˈiːs ðɛɹ flˈoʊɪŋ ˌʌnəwˈɛɹz.