text_original: L WAYS I saw him there Among the flowery race, The frost in his silver hair And the wrinkles in his face : The days are soft and fair, And the plants that knew his care Are green, and thrive apace, I miss him from the place.
text_transcription: ALWAYS I SAW HIM THERE AMONG THE FLOWERY RAYS THE FROST IN HIS SILVER HAIR AND THE WRINKLES IN HIS FACE THE DAYS ARE SOFT AND FAIR AND THE PLANTS THAT KNEW HIS CARE ARE GREEN AND THRIVE APACE I MISS HIM FROM THE PLACE
phonemes: ˈɛl wˈeɪz aɪ sˈɔː hˌɪm ðɛɹ ɐmˌʌŋ ðə flˈaʊɚɹi ɹˈeɪs, ðə fɹˈɔst ɪn hɪz sˈɪlvɚ hˈɛɹ ænd ðə ɹˈɪŋkəlz ɪn hɪz fˈeɪs : ðə dˈeɪz ɑːɹ sˈɔft ænd fˈɛɹ, ænd ðə plˈænts ðæt nˈuː hɪz kˈɛɹ ɑːɹ ɡɹˈiːn, ænd θɹˈaɪv ɐpˈeɪs, aɪ mˈɪs hˌɪm fɹʌmðə plˈeɪs.