text_original: But surely we shall not forget. When the sad roses bow their heads to June, And lilies weep beneath the summer sky For his sweet song, and all the world in tune Prays heaven for his mournful melody : Our dream shall have an end, and we shall wake The western hills with sorrow for his sake.
text_transcription: BUT SURELY WE SHALL NOT FORGET WHEN THE SAD ROSES BOW THEIR HEADS TO JUNE AND LILIES SWEEP BENEATH THE SUMMER SKY FOR HIS SWEET SONG AND ALL THE WORLD IN TUNE PRAISE HEAVEN FOR HIS MOURNFUL MALADY OUR DREAM SHALL HAVE AN END AND WE SHALL WAKE THE WESTERN HILLS WITH SORROW FOR HIS SAKE
phonemes: bˌʌt ʃˈʊɹli wiːʃˌɐl nˌɑːt fɚɡˈɛt. wˌɛn ðə sˈæd ɹˈoʊzᵻz bˈoʊ ðɛɹ hˈɛdz tə dʒˈuːn, ænd lˈɪliz wˈiːp bᵻnˌiːθ ðə sˈʌmɚ skˈaɪ fɔːɹ hɪz swˈiːt sˈɔŋ, ænd ˈɔːl ðə wˈɜːld ɪn tˈuːn pɹˈeɪz hˈɛvən fɔːɹ hɪz mˈɔːɹnfəl mˈɛlədi : ˌaʊɚ dɹˈiːm ʃˌæl hæv ɐn ˈɛnd, ænd wiːʃˌɐl wˈeɪk ðə wˈɛstɚn hˈɪlz wɪð sˈɑːɹoʊ fɔːɹ hɪz sˈeɪk.