text_original: One who claims that he knows about it Tells me the Earth is a vale of sin; But I and the bees and the birds  we doubt it, And think it a world worth living in. Some one says that hearts are fickle, That love is sorrow, that life is care, And the reaper Death, with his shining sickle, Gathers whatever is bright and fair.
text_transcription: ONE WHO CLAIMS THAT HE KNOWS ABOUT IT TELLS ME THE EARTH IS A VEIL OF SIN BUT I AND THE BEES AND THE BIRDS REDOUBT IT AND THINK IT A WORLD WORTH LIVING IN SOMEONE SAYS THAT HEARTS ARE FICKLE THAT LOVE IS SORROW THAT LIFE IS CARE AND THE REAPER DEATH WITH HIS SHINING SICKLE GATHERS WHATEVER IS BRIGHT AND FAIR
phonemes: wˈʌn hˌuː klˈeɪmz ðæt hiː nˈoʊz ɐbˌaʊt ɪt tˈɛlz mˌiː ðɪ ˈɜːθ ɪz ɐ vˈeɪl ʌv sˈɪn; bˌʌt aɪ ænd ðə bˈiːz ænd ðə bˈɜːdz wiː dˈaʊt ɪt, ænd θˈɪŋk ɪɾ ɐ wˈɜːld wˈɜːθ lˈɪvɪŋ ˈɪn. sˈʌmwʌn sˈɛz ðæt hˈɑːɹts ɑːɹ fˈɪkəl, ðæt lˈʌv ɪz sˈɑːɹoʊ, ðæt lˈaɪf ɪz kˈɛɹ, ænd ðə ɹˈiːpɚ dˈɛθ, wɪð hɪz ʃˈaɪnɪŋ sˈɪkəl, ɡˈæðɚz wʌtˈɛvɚɹ ɪz bɹˈaɪt ænd fˈɛɹ.