text_original: On such a night, how sweet, how sweet is life, Even to the insect piper with his fife! And must your troubled face still bear the blight Of strength that runs itself to waste in strife? For love's own heart should throb through all the light Of such a night.
text_transcription: ON SUCH A NIGHT HOW SWEET HOW SWEET IS LIFE EVEN TO THE INSECT PIPER WITH HIS FIFE AND MUST YOUR TROUBLED FACE STILL BEAR THE BLIGHT OF STRENGTH THAT RUNS ITSELF TO WASTE IN STRIFE FOR LOVE'S OWN HEART SHOULD THROB THROUGH ALL THE LIGHT OF SUCH A NIGHT
phonemes: ˌɔn sˈʌtʃ ɐ nˈaɪt, hˌaʊ swˈiːt, hˌaʊ swˈiːt ɪz lˈaɪf, ˈiːvən tə ðɪ ˈɪnsɛkt pˈaɪpɚ wɪð hɪz fˈaɪf! ænd mˈʌst jʊɹ tɹˈʌbəld fˈeɪs stˈɪl bˈɛɹ ðə blˈaɪt ʌv stɹˈɛŋθ ðæt ɹˈʌnz ɪtsˈɛlf tə wˈeɪst ɪn stɹˈaɪf? fɔːɹ lˈʌvz ˈoʊn hˈɑːɹt ʃˌʊd θɹˈɑːb θɹuː ˈɔːl ðə lˈaɪt ʌv sˈʌtʃ ɐ nˈaɪt.