text_original: I keep the flower you braided Among those waves of gold, The leaves are sere and faded, And like our love grown old. Our lives have lain asunder, The years are long, and yet, I could not choose but wonder. I cannot quite forget. 1880.
text_transcription: I KEEP THE FLOWER YOU BRAIDED AMONG THOSE WAVES OF GOLD THE LEAVES ARE SERE AND FADED AND LIKE OUR LOVE GROWN OLD OUR LIVES HAVE LAIN ASUNDER THE YEARS ARE LONG AND YET I COULD NOT CHOOSE BUT WANDER I CANNOT QUITE FORGET EIGH
phonemes: aɪ kˈiːp ðə flˈaʊɚ juː bɹˈeɪdᵻd ɐmˌʌŋ ðoʊz wˈeɪvz ʌv ɡˈoʊld, ðə lˈiːvz ɑːɹ sˈɪɹ ænd fˈeɪdᵻd, ænd lˈaɪk ˌaʊɚ lˈʌv ɡɹˈoʊn ˈoʊld. ˌaʊɚ lˈaɪvz hæv lˈeɪn ɐsˈʌndɚ, ðə jˈɪɹz ɑːɹ lˈɔŋ, ænd jˈɛt, aɪ kʊd nˌɑːt tʃˈuːz bˌʌt wˈʌndɚ. aɪ kænˈɑːt kwˈaɪt fɚɡˈɛt. wˈʌn θˈaʊzənd ˈeɪthˈʌndɹɪd ˈeɪɾi.