text_original: For while the stars endure This sweet truth standeth sure, That life is ever lord of death, and love o'ercometh hate. So, though the months seem long, And the icy fetters strong, We will abide in patience, come the springtime soon or late.
text_transcription: FOR WHILE THE STARS ENDURE THIS SWEET TRUTH STANDS SURE THAT LIFE IS EVER LORD OF DEATH AND LOVE OVERCOMETH HATE SO THOUGH THE MONTHS SEEM LONG AND THE ICY FETTER STRONG WE WILL ABIDE IN PATIENCE COME THE SPRING TIME SOON OR LATE
phonemes: fɔːɹ wˌaɪl ðə stˈɑːɹz ɛndˈʊɹ ðɪs swˈiːt tɹˈuːθ stˈændəθ ʃˈʊɹ, ðæt lˈaɪf ɪz ˈɛvɚ lˈɔːɹd ʌv dˈɛθ, ænd lˈʌv ˈɔːɹkʌməθ hˈeɪt. sˈoʊ, ðˌoʊ ðə mˈʌnθs sˈiːm lˈɔŋ, ænd ðɪ ˈaɪsi fˈɛɾɚz stɹˈɔŋ, wiː wɪl ɐbˈaɪd ɪn pˈeɪʃəns, kˈʌm ðə spɹˈɪŋtaɪm sˈuːn ɔːɹ lˈeɪt.