text_original: XII. For in this brief existence, not alone Do our lives gather what our hands have sown, But we reap, too, what others long ago Sowed, careless of the harvests that might grow.
text_transcription: TWELVE FOR IN THIS BRIEF EXISTENCE NOT ALONE DO OUR LIVES GATHER WHAT OUR HANDS HAVE SOWN BUT WE WEAP TOO WHAT OTHERS LONG AGO SOWED CARELESS OF THE HARVEST THAT MIGHT GROW
phonemes: ɹˌoʊmən twˈɛlv. fɔːɹ ɪn ðɪs bɹˈiːf ɛɡzˈɪstəns, nˌɑːt ɐlˈoʊn dˈuː ˌaʊɚ lˈaɪvz ɡˈæðɚ wʌt ˌaʊɚ hˈændz hæv sˈoʊn, bˌʌt wiː ɹˈiːp, tˈuː, wˌʌt ˈʌðɚz lˈɔŋ ɐɡˈoʊ sˈoʊd, kˈɛɹləs ʌvðə hˈɑːɹvɪsts ðæt mˌaɪt ɡɹˈoʊ.