text_original: To touch a broken lute, To strike a jangled string, To strive with tones forever mute The dear old tunes to sing   What sadder fate could any heart befall? _Alas! dear child, never to sing at all_. To sigh for pleasures flown. To weep for withered flowers, To count the blessings we have known, Lost with the vanished hours   What sadder fate could any heart befall?
text_transcription: TO TOUCH A BROKEN LUTE TO STRIKE A JANGLED STRING TO STRIVE WITH TONES FOREVER MUTE THE DEAR OLD TUNES TO SING WHAT SADDER FATE COULD ANY HEART BEFALL ALAS DEAR CHILD NEVER TO SING AT ALL TO SIGH FOR PLEASURES FLOWN TO WEEP FOR WITHERED FLOWERS TO COUNT THE BLESSINGS WE HAVE KNOWN LOST WITH THE VANISHED HOURS WHAT SADDER FATE COULD ANY HEART BEFALL
phonemes: tə tˈʌtʃ ɐ bɹˈoʊkən lˈuːt, tə stɹˈaɪk ɐ dʒˈæŋɡəld stɹˈɪŋ, tə stɹˈaɪv wɪð tˈoʊnz fɚɹˈɛvɚ mjˈuːt ðə dˈɪɹ ˈoʊld tˈuːnz tə sˈɪŋ wʌt sˈædɚ fˈeɪt kʊd ˌɛni hˈɑːɹt bᵻfˈɔːl? ɐlˈæs! dˈɪɹ tʃˈaɪld, nˈɛvɚ tə sˈɪŋ æɾ ˈɔːl. tə sˈaɪ fɔːɹ plˈɛʒɚz flˈoʊn. tə wˈiːp fɔːɹ wˈɪðɚd flˈaʊɚz, tə kˈaʊnt ðə blˈɛsɪŋz wiː hæv nˈoʊn, lˈɔst wɪððə vˈænɪʃt ˈaʊɚz wʌt sˈædɚ fˈeɪt kʊd ˌɛni hˈɑːɹt bᵻfˈɔːl?