text_original: Yet why will you smile at my old white years When love was a gift divine, When songs were laughter and hope and tears, And art was a people's shrine?
text_transcription: YET WHY WILL YOU SMILE AT MY OLD WHITE YEARS WHEN LOVE WAS A GIFT DIVINE WHEN SONGS WERE LAUGHTER AND HOPE AND TEARS AND ART WAS A PEOPLED SHRINE
phonemes: jˈɛt wˌaɪ wɪl juː smˈaɪl æt maɪ ˈoʊld wˈaɪt jˈɪɹz wɛn lˈʌv wʌzɐ ɡˈɪft dᵻvˈaɪn, wˌɛn sˈɔŋz wɜː lˈæftɚ ænd hˈoʊp ænd tˈɪɹz, ænd ˈɑːɹt wʌzɐ pˈiːpəlz ʃɹˈaɪn?