text_original: And if the rosebud dreamed e'er its awaking How soon its perfumed leaves would drift apart, Perchance 'twould fold them close to still the aching Within its golden heart.
text_transcription: AND IF THE ROSE BUD DREAMED ERE ITS AWAKING HOW SOON ITS PERFUMED LEAVES WOULD DRIFT APART PERCHANCE WOULD FOLD THEM CLOSE TO STILL THE ACHING WITHIN ITS GOLDEN HEART
phonemes: ænd ɪf ðə ɹˈoʊzbʌd dɹˈiːmd ˈɛɹ ɪts ɐwˈeɪkɪŋ hˌaʊ sˈuːn ɪts pˈɜːfjuːmd lˈiːvz wʊd dɹˈɪft ɐpˈɑːɹt, pɚtʃˈæns twˈʊd fˈoʊld ðˌɛm klˈoʊs tə stˈɪl ðɪ ˈeɪkɪŋ wɪðˌɪn ɪts ɡˈoʊldən hˈɑːɹt.