text_original: All vain are beauty, worth, and wit, The hours come, the hours flit ; Time's wheel inexorably turneth, And carries all our hopes with it. It is life's common end and way ; Nothing abides and naught may stay ; And strangers in the kinsmen's places Front us with alien eyes to day.
text_transcription: ALL VAIN ARE BEAUTY WORTH AND WIT THE HOURS COME THE HOURS FLIT TIME'S WHEEL INEXORABLY TURNETH AND CARRIES ALL OUR HOPES WITH IT IT IS LIFE'S COMMON END AND WAY NOTHING ABIDES AND NOUGHT MAY STAY AND STRANGERS IN THE KINSMAN'S PLACES FRONT US WITH ALIEN EYES TO
phonemes: ˈɔːl vˈeɪn ɑːɹ bjˈuːɾi, wˈɜːθ, ænd wˈɪt, ðɪ ˈaʊɚz kˈʌm, ðɪ ˈaʊɚz flˈɪt ; tˈaɪmz wˈiːl ɪnˈɛksɚɹəbli tˈɜːnəθ, ænd kˈæɹiz ˈɔːl ˌaʊɚ hˈoʊps wɪð ɪt. ɪɾ ɪz lˈaɪfz kˈɑːmən ˈɛnd ænd wˈeɪ ; nˈʌθɪŋ ɐbˈaɪdz ænd nˈɔːt mˈeɪ stˈeɪ ; ænd stɹˈeɪndʒɚz ɪnðə kˈɪnzmɛnz plˈeɪsᵻz fɹˈʌnt ˌʌs wɪð ˈeɪliən ˈaɪz tə dˈeɪ.