text_original: And she would sit in the sun a while, Down in the garth by the old stone dial, Where never again would he make her smile. And often the first bright star o'erhead Had whispered, "Sweet, where the rose blooms red, Come look with me for the love that's dead."
text_transcription: AND SHE WOULD SIT IN THE SUN AWHILE DOWN IN THE GARTH BY THE OLD STONE DIAL WHERE NEVER AGAIN WOULD HE MAKE HER SMILE AND OFTEN THE FIRST BRIGHT STAR OVERHEAD HAD WHISPERED SWEET WHERE THE ROSE BLOOMS RED COME LOOK WITH ME FOR THE LOVE THAT'S DEAD
phonemes: ænd ʃiː wʊd sˈɪt ɪnðə sˈʌn ɐ wˈaɪl, dˌaʊn ɪnðə ɡˈɑːɹθ baɪ ðɪ ˈoʊld stˈoʊn dˈaɪəl, wˌɛɹ nˈɛvɚɹ ɐɡˈɛn wʊd hiː mˌeɪk hɜː smˈaɪl. ænd ˈɔfən ðə fˈɜːst bɹˈaɪt stˈɑːɹ ˈɔːɹhɛd hæd wˈɪspɚd, "swˈiːt, wˌɛɹ ðə ɹˈoʊz blˈuːmz ɹˈɛd, kˈʌm lˈʊk wɪð mˌiː fɚðə lˈʌv ðæts dˈɛd."