text_original: TO J. F. H. Nine years have slipped like hour glass sand From life's fast emptying globe away, Since last, dear friend, I clasped your hand, And lingered on the impoverished land, Watching the steamer down the bay.
text_transcription: TO J F H NINE YEARS HAVE SLIPPED LIKE OUR GLASS SAND FROM LIFE'S PAST EMPTYING GLOBE AWAY SINCE LAST DEAR FRIEND I CLASPED YOUR HAND AND LINGERED ON THE IMPROVERISHED LAND WATCHING THE STEAMER DOWN THE BAY
phonemes: tuː dʒˈeɪ. ˈɛf. ˈeɪtʃ. nˈaɪn jˈɪɹz hæv slˈɪpt lˈaɪk ˈaʊɚ ɡlˈæs sˈænd fɹʌm lˈaɪfz fˈæst ˈɛmptiɪŋ ɡlˈoʊb ɐwˈeɪ, sˈɪns lˈæst, dˈɪɹ fɹˈɛnd, aɪ klˈæspt jʊɹ hˈænd, ænd lˈɪŋɡɚd ɔnðɪ ɪmpˈɑːvɚɹɪʃt lˈænd, wˈɑːtʃɪŋ ðə stˈiːmɚ dˌaʊn ðə bˈeɪ.