text_original: Alas, we know not how, or when or why This dear thing died. We only know it went, And left us dull, cold, and indifferent; We who found heaven once in each other's sigh. How pitiful it is, and yet how true That half the lovers in the world, one day, Look questioning in each other's eyes this way And know love's gone forever, as we do.
text_transcription: ALAS WE KNOW NOT HOW OR WHEN OR WHY THIS DEAR THING DIED WE ONLY KNOW IT WENT AND LEFT US DULL COLD AND INDIFFERENT WE WHO FOUND HEAVEN ONCE IN EACH OTHER'S SIGH HOW PITIFUL IT IS AND YET HOW TRUE THAT HALF THE LOVERS IN THE WORLD ONE DAY LOOK QUESTIONING IN EACH OTHER'S EYES THIS WAY AND KNOW LOVE'S GONE FOR EVER AS WE DO
phonemes: ɐlˈæs, wiː nˈoʊ nˌɑːt hˈaʊ, ɔːɹ wɛn ɔːɹ wˌaɪ ðɪs dˈɪɹ θˈɪŋ dˈaɪd. wiː ˈoʊnli nˈoʊ ɪt wˈɛnt, ænd lˈɛft ˌʌs dˈʌl, kˈoʊld, ænd ɪndˈɪfɹənt; wiː hˌuː fˈaʊnd hˈɛvən wˈʌns ɪn ˈiːtʃ ˈʌðɚz sˈaɪ. hˌaʊ pˈɪɾifəl ɪɾ ˈɪz, ænd jˈɛt hˌaʊ tɹˈuː ðæt hˈæf ðə lˈʌvɚz ɪnðə wˈɜːld, wˈʌn dˈeɪ, lˈʊk kwˈɛstʃənɪŋ ɪn ˈiːtʃ ˈʌðɚz ˈaɪz ðɪs wˈeɪ ænd nˈoʊ lˈʌvz ɡɔn fɚɹˈɛvɚ, æz wiː dˈuː.