text_original: THE PLAY In the rosy light of my day's fair morning, Ere ever a storm cloud darkened the west, Ere even a shadow of night gave warning When life seemed only a pleasure quest, Why then all humour and comedy scorning   I liked high tragedy best.
text_transcription: THE PLAY IN THE ROSY LIGHT OF MY DAY'S FAIR MORNING ERE EVER A STORM CLOUD DARKENED THE WEST ERE EVEN A SHADOW OF NIGHT GAVE WARNING WHEN LIFE SEEMED ONLY A PLEASURE QUEST WHY THEN ALL HUMOR AND COMEDY SCORNING I LIKED HIGH TRAGEDY BEST
phonemes: ðə plˈeɪ ɪnðə ɹˈoʊzi lˈaɪt ʌv maɪ dˈeɪz fˈɛɹ mˈɔːɹnɪŋ, ˈɛɹ ˈɛvɚɹ ɐ stˈɔːɹm klˈaʊd dˈɑːɹkənd ðə wˈɛst, ˈɛɹ ˈiːvən ɐ ʃˈædoʊ ʌv nˈaɪt ɡˈeɪv wˈɔːɹnɪŋ wɛn lˈaɪf sˈiːmd ˈoʊnli ɐ plˈɛʒɚ kwˈɛst, wˌaɪ ðˈɛn ˈɔːl hjˈuːmɚ ænd kˈɑːmədi skˈɔːɹnɪŋ aɪ lˈaɪkt hˈaɪ tɹˈædʒədi bˈɛst.