text_original: 160 TWO YEARS TWO YEARS THE Old Year knew him, but the New knows not, And all our joy and welcome for the New Is clouded by the thought, which, like a blot Stains and obscures the gladness through and through Old Year, which barely touched him as he passed, This grace abides with thee now thou art dead, Of Time's brief vanished heirs thou wert the last To lay a blessing on his honored head.
text_transcription: BY SONYA TWO YEARS THE OLD YEAR KNEW HIM BUT THE NEW KNOWS NOT AND ALL OUR JOY AND WELCOME FOR THE NEW IS CLOUDED BY THE THOUGHT WHICH LIKE A BLOT STAINS AND OBSCURES THE GLADNESS THROUGH AND THROUGH OLD YEAR WHICH BARELY TOUCHED HIM AS HE PASSED DISGRACE ABIDES WITH THEE NOW THOU ART DEAD OF TIMES BRIEF VANISHED AIRS THOU WERT THE LAST TO LAY A BLESSING ON HIS HONOURED HEAD
phonemes: wˈʌnhˈʌndɹɪd sˈɪksti tˈuː jˈɪɹz tˈuː jˈɪɹz ðɪ ˈoʊld jˈɪɹ nˈuː hˌɪm, bˌʌt ðə nˈuː nˈoʊz nˈɑːt, ænd ˈɔːl ˌaʊɚ dʒˈɔɪ ænd wˈɛlkʌm fɚðə nˈuː ɪz klˈaʊdᵻd baɪ ðə θˈɔːt, wˈɪtʃ, lˈaɪk ɐ blˈɑːt stˈeɪnz ænd əbskjˈʊɹz ðə ɡlˈædnəs θɹuː ænd θɹuː ˈoʊld jˈɪɹ, wˌɪtʃ bˈɛɹli tˈʌtʃt hˌɪm æz hiː pˈæst, ðɪs ɡɹˈeɪs ɐbˈaɪdz wɪð ðiː nˈaʊ ðˈaʊ ˈɑːɹt dˈɛd, ʌv tˈaɪmz bɹˈiːf vˈænɪʃt ˈɛɹz ðˈaʊ wˈɜːt ðə lˈæst tə lˈeɪ ɐ blˈɛsɪŋ ˌɔn hɪz ˈɑːnɚd hˈɛd.