text_original: To those who come for what she was   The few left who know where to find her   She clings, for they are all she has; And she may smile when they remind her, As heretofore, of what they know Of roses that are still to blow By ways where not so much as grass Remains of what she sees behind her.
text_transcription: TO THOSE WHO COME FOR WHAT SHE WAS THE FEW LEFT WHO KNOW WHERE TO FIND HER SHE CLINGS FOR THEY ARE ALL SHE HAS AND SHE MAY SMILE WHEN THEY REMIND HER AS HERETOFORE OF WHAT THEY KNOW OF ROSES THAT ARE STILL TO BLOW BY WAYS WHERE NOT SO MUCH AS GRASS REMAINS OF WHAT SHE SEES BEHIND HER
phonemes: tə ðoʊz hˌuː kˈʌm fɔːɹ wʌt ʃiː wʌzðə fjˈuː lˈɛft hˌuː nˈoʊ wˌɛɹ tə fˈaɪnd hɜː ʃiː klˈɪŋz, fɔːɹ ðeɪ ɑːɹ ˈɔːl ʃiː hˈæz; ænd ʃiː mˈeɪ smˈaɪl wɛn ðeɪ ɹᵻmˈaɪnd hɜː, æz hˈɪɹtʊfˌɔːɹ, ʌv wʌt ðeɪ nˈoʊ ʌv ɹˈoʊzᵻz ðæt ɑːɹ stˈɪl tə blˈoʊ baɪ wˈeɪz wˌɛɹ nˌɑːt sˈoʊ mˌʌtʃ æz ɡɹˈæs ɹᵻmˈeɪnz ʌv wʌt ʃiː sˈiːz bᵻhˈaɪnd hɜː.