text_original: Pluck flowers in youth; no sadder thought brings Fate Than memory of scorned joys crushed by our feet In flight too fleet.
text_transcription: PLUCK FLOWERS IN YOUTH NO SADDER THOUGHT BRINGS FATE THAN MEMORY OF SCORNED JOYS CRUSHED BY YOUR FEET IN FLIGHT TO FLEET
phonemes: plˈʌk flˈaʊɚz ɪn jˈuːθ; nˈoʊ sˈædɚ θˈɔːt bɹˈɪŋz fˈeɪt ðɐn mˈɛmɚɹi ʌv skˈɔːɹnd dʒˈɔɪz kɹˈʌʃt baɪ ˌaʊɚ fˈiːt ɪn flˈaɪt tˈuː flˈiːt.