text_original: Dear hours! which now again I over live, Hearing and seeing with the ears and eyes Of childhood, ye were bees, that to the hive Of my young heart came laden with rich prize, Gathered in fields and woods and sunny dells, to be My spirit's food in days more wintery. Yea, yet again ye come! ye come!
text_transcription: DEAR HOURS WHICH NOW AGAIN I OVER LIVE HEARING AND SEEING WITH THE EARS AND EYES OF CHILDHOOD YE WERE BEES THAT TO THE HIVE OF MY YOUNG HEART CAME LADEN WITH RICH PRIZE GATHERED IN FIELDS AND WOODS AND SUNNY DELLS TO BE MY SPIRIT'S FOOD IN DAYS MORE WINTRY YEA YET AGAIN YE COME YE COME
phonemes: dˈɪɹ ˈaʊɚz! wˌɪtʃ nˈaʊ ɐɡˈɛn aɪ ˌoʊvɚ lˈaɪv, hˈɪɹɪŋ ænd sˈiːɪŋ wɪððɪ ˈɪɹz ænd ˈaɪz ʌv tʃˈaɪldhʊd, jiː wɜː bˈiːz, ðæt tə ðə hˈaɪv ʌv maɪ jˈʌŋ hˈɑːɹt kˈeɪm lˈeɪdən wɪð ɹˈɪtʃ pɹˈaɪz, ɡˈæðɚd ɪn fˈiːldz ænd wˈʊdz ænd sˈʌni dˈɛlz, təbi maɪ spˈɪɹɪts fˈuːd ɪn dˈeɪz mˈɔːɹ wˈɪntɚɹi. jˈeɪ, jˈɛt ɐɡˈɛn jiː kˈʌm! jiː kˈʌm!