text_original: Musing on days thine heart hath sorrow of, Old joy, dead hope, dear love, I see thee stand where all thy sisters meet To cast down at thy feet The garnered largess of the fruitful year, And on thy cheek a tear.
text_transcription: MUSING ON DAYS THINE HEART HAS SORROW OF OLD JOY DEAD HOPE DEAR LOVE I SEE THEE STAND WHERE ALL THY SISTERS MEET TO CAST DOWN AT THY FEET THE GARNET LARGESSE OF THE FRUITFUL YEAR AND ON THY CHEEK A TEAR
phonemes: mjˈuːzɪŋ ˌɔn dˈeɪz ðaɪn hˈɑːɹt hæθ sˈɑːɹoʊ ʌv, ˈoʊld dʒˈɔɪ, dˈɛd hˈoʊp, dˈɪɹ lˈʌv, aɪ sˈiː ðiː stˈænd wˌɛɹ ˈɔːl ðˌaɪ sˈɪstɚz mˈiːt tə kˈæst dˌaʊn æt ðˌaɪ fˈiːt ðə ɡˈɑːɹnɚd lˈɑːɹdʒɛs ʌvðə fɹˈuːtfəl jˈɪɹ, ænd ˌɔn ðˌaɪ tʃˈiːk ɐ tˈɪɹ.