text_original: IV Though thirty years of blur and blot Have slid since I beheld that spot, And saw in curious converse there Moving slowly, moving sadly That mysterious tragic pair, Its olden look may linger on— All but the couple; they have gone.
text_transcription: FOUR THOUGH THIRTY YEARS OF BLUR AND BLOOD HAVE SLID SINCE I BEHELD THAT SPOT AND SAW IN CURIOUS CONVERSE THERE MOVING SLOWLY MOVING SADLY THAT MYSTERIOUS TRAGIC PAIR ITS OLDEN LOOK MAY LINGER ON ALL BUT THE COUPLE THEY HAVE GONE
phonemes: ɹˌoʊmən fˈɔːɹ ðˌoʊ θˈɜːɾi jˈɪɹz ʌv blˈɜː ænd blˈɑːt hæv slˈɪd sˈɪns aɪ bᵻhˈɛld ðæt spˈɑːt, ænd sˈɔː ɪn kjˈʊɹɹiəs kˈɑːnvɜːs ðɛɹ mˈuːvɪŋ slˈoʊli, mˈuːvɪŋ sˈædli ðæt mɪstˈɪɹiəs tɹˈædʒɪk pˈɛɹ, ɪts ˈoʊldən lˈʊk mˈeɪ lˈɪŋɡɚɹ ˈɔn— ˈɔːl bˌʌt ðə kˈʌpəl; ðeɪ hæv ɡˈɔn.