text_original: I'd speak to you, grey headed man! now tottering at death's door, Gazing on life's red page, by sin and sorrow blotted o'er. How wistfully you eye that past you never may recall, And wish, since life must end like this, you'd never lived at all.
text_transcription: I'D SPEAK TO YOU GREY HEADED MAN NOW TOTTERING AT DEATH'S DOOR GAZING ON LIFE'S RED PAGE BY SIN AND SORROW BLOTTED O'ER HOW WISTFULLY YOUR EYE HAS PASSED YOU NEVER MAY RECALL AND WISH SINCE LIFE MUST END LIKE THIS YOU'D NEVER LIVED AT ALL
phonemes: aɪd spˈiːk tə juː, ɡɹˈeɪ hˈɛdᵻd mˈæn! nˈaʊ tˈɑːɾɚɹɪŋ æt dˈɛθz dˈɔːɹ, ɡˈeɪzɪŋ ˌɔn lˈaɪfz ɹˈɛd pˈeɪdʒ, baɪ sˈɪn ænd sˈɑːɹoʊ blˈɑːɾᵻd ˈɔːɹ. hˌaʊ wˈɪstfəli juː ˈaɪ ðæt pˈæst juː nˈɛvɚ mˈeɪ ɹᵻkˈɔːl, ænd wˈɪʃ, sˈɪns lˈaɪf mˈʌst ˈɛnd lˈaɪk ðˈɪs, juːd nˈɛvɚ lˈɪvd æɾ ˈɔːl.