text_original: Which thinks of morn without regret ; Which thinks of busy noon, and yet Grieves not to put its toils away ; Which, calmed with thoughts of coming rest, Watches the sweet, still evening fade, Counting its hours all unafraid, Surely the evening is the best.
text_transcription: WHICH SINGS OF MORN WITHOUT REGRET WHICH SINGS OF BUSY NOON AND YET GRIEVES NOT TO PUT ITS TOILS AWAY WHICH CALMED WITH THOUGHTS OF COMING REST WATCHES THE SWEET STILL EVENING FADE COUNTING ITS HOURS ALL UNAFRAID SURELY THE EVENING IS THE BEST
phonemes: wˌɪtʃ θˈɪŋks ʌv mˈɔːɹn wɪðˌaʊt ɹᵻɡɹˈɛt ; wˌɪtʃ θˈɪŋks ʌv bˈɪzi nˈuːn, ænd jˈɛt ɡɹˈiːvz nˌɑːt tə pˌʊt ɪts tˈɔɪlz ɐwˈeɪ ; wˈɪtʃ, kˈɑːmd wɪð θˈɔːts ʌv kˈʌmɪŋ ɹˈɛst, wˈɑːtʃᵻz ðə swˈiːt, stˈɪl ˈiːvnɪŋ fˈeɪd, kˈaʊntɪŋ ɪts ˈaʊɚz ˈɔːl ʌnɐfɹˈeɪd, ʃˈʊɹli ðɪ ˈiːvnɪŋ ɪz ðə bˈɛst.