text_original: There's the ghost of a Joy, A frail, fragile thing, and I prized it too much, And the hands that destroy Clasped it close, and it died at the withering touch.
text_transcription: THERE'S THE GHOST OF A JOY A FRAIL FRAGILE THING AND I PRIZED IT TOO MUCH AND THE HANDS THAT DESTROY CLASPED IT CLOSE AND IT DIED AT THE WITHERING TOUCH
phonemes: ðɛɹz ðə ɡˈoʊst əvə dʒˈɔɪ, ɐ fɹˈeɪl, fɹˈædʒəl θˈɪŋ, ænd aɪ pɹˈaɪzd ɪt tˈuː mʌtʃ, ænd ðə hˈændz ðæt dᵻstɹˈɔɪ klˈæspt ɪt klˈoʊs, ænd ɪt dˈaɪd æt ðə wˈɪðɚɹɪŋ tˈʌtʃ.