text_original: None live who need fear anything From her, whose losses are their pleasure; The plover with a wounded wing Stays not the flight that others measure; So there she waits, and while she lives, And death forgets, and faith forgives, Her memories go foraging For bits of childhood song they treasure.
text_transcription: NONE LIVE WHO NEED FEAR ANYTHING FROM HER WHOSE LOSSES ARE THEIR PLEASURE THE PLOVER WITH A WOUNDED WING STAYS NOT THE FLIGHT THAT OTHERS MEASURE SO THERE SHE WAITS AND WHILE SHE LIVES AND DEATH FORGETS AND FAITH FORGIVES HER MEMORIES GO FORAGING FOR BITS OF CHILDHOOD SONG THEY TREASURE
phonemes: nˈʌn lˈaɪv hˌuː nˈiːd fˈɪɹ ˈɛnɪθˌɪŋ fɹʌm hɜː, hˌuːz lˈɔsᵻz ɑːɹ ðɛɹ plˈɛʒɚ; ðə plˈʌvɚ wɪð ɐ wˈuːndᵻd wˈɪŋ stˈeɪz nˌɑːt ðə flˈaɪt ðæt ˈʌðɚz mˈɛʒɚ; sˌoʊ ðɛɹ ʃiː wˈeɪts, ænd wˌaɪl ʃiː lˈɪvz, ænd dˈɛθ fɚɡˈɛts, ænd fˈeɪθ fɚɡˈɪvz, hɜː mˈɛmɚɹiz ɡˌoʊ fˈɔːɹɪdʒɪŋ fɔːɹ bˈɪts ʌv tʃˈaɪldhʊd sˈɔŋ ðeɪ tɹˈɛʒɚ.