text_original: They labor that the morning rise again On the same dregs of pleasure and despair; That night but summon to the candle s flare The giddy moth, and slumber held in vain Refashioned hopes for the deluded brain, And set fresh lures in life s betraying snare.
text_transcription: THEY LABOR THAT THE MORNING RISE AGAIN ON THE SAME DREGS OF PLEASURE AND DESPAIR THAT NIGHT BUT SUMMONED TO THE CANDLES FLARE THE GIDDY MOTH AND SLUMBER HELD IN VAIN WITH FASHIONED HOPES FOR THE DELUDED BRAIN AND SET FRESH YEARS IN LIFE'S BETRAYING SNARE
phonemes: ðeɪ lˈeɪbɚ ðætðə mˈɔːɹnɪŋ ɹˈaɪz ɐɡˈɛn ɔnðə sˈeɪm dɹˈɛɡz ʌv plˈɛʒɚ ænd dᵻspˈɛɹ; ðæt nˈaɪt bˌʌt sˈʌmən tə ðə kˈændəl ˈɛs flˈɛɹ ðə ɡˈɪdi mˈɑːθ, ænd slˈʌmbɚ hˈɛld ɪn vˈeɪn ɹᵻfˈæʃənd hˈoʊps fɚðə dᵻlˈuːdᵻd bɹˈeɪn, ænd sˈɛt fɹˈɛʃ lˈʊɹz ɪn lˈaɪf ˈɛs bᵻtɹˈeɪɪŋ snˈɛɹ.