text_original: But my dear, my dear, Where are the roses we were wont to see The songs we used to hear? I said the hearth flame that once burned for us I will renew with all the cheer of old, Yet here within the circle luminous Our very hearts are cold.
text_transcription: BUT MY DEAR MY DEAR WHERE ARE THE ROSES WE WERE WONT TO SEE THE SONGS WE USED TO HEAR I SET THE HEARTH FLAME THAT ONCE BURNED FOR US I WILL RENEW WITH ALL THE CHEER OF OLD YET HERE WITHIN THE CIRCLE LUMINOUS OUR VERY HEARTS ARE COLD
phonemes: bˌʌt maɪ dˈɪɹ, maɪ dˈɪɹ, wˌɛɹ ɑːɹ ðə ɹˈoʊzᵻz wiː wɜː wˈɔnt tə sˈiː ðə sˈɔŋz wiː jˈuːzd tə hˈɪɹ? aɪ sˈɛd ðə hˈɑːɹθ flˈeɪm ðæt wˈʌns bˈɜːnd fɔːɹ ˌʌs aɪ wɪl ɹᵻnˈuː wɪð ˈɔːl ðə tʃˈɪɹ ʌv ˈoʊld, jˈɛt hˈɪɹ wɪðˌɪn ðə sˈɜːkəl lˈuːmɪnəs ˌaʊɚ vˈɛɹi hˈɑːɹts ɑːɹ kˈoʊld.