text_original: It might have been the evening breeze That whispered in the garden trees, It might have been the sound of seas That rose and fell; But, with her heart, if not her ear, The old loved voice she seemed to hear: "I wait to meet thee: be of cheer, For all is well!"
text_transcription: IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE EVENING BREEZE THAT WHISPERED IN THE GARDEN TREES IT MIGHT HAVE BEEN THE SOUND OF SEAS THAT ROSE AND FELL BUT WITH HER HEART IF NOT HER EAR THE OLD LOVED VOICE SHE SEEMED TO HEAR I WAIT TO MEET THEE BE OF CHEER FOR ALL IS WELL
phonemes: ɪt mˌaɪthɐv bˌɪn ðɪ ˈiːvnɪŋ bɹˈiːz ðæt wˈɪspɚd ɪnðə ɡˈɑːɹdən tɹˈiːz, ɪt mˌaɪthɐv bˌɪn ðə sˈaʊnd ʌv sˈiːz ðæt ɹˈoʊz ænd fˈɛl; bˌʌt, wɪð hɜː hˈɑːɹt, ɪf nˌɑːt hɜːɹ ˈɪɹ, ðɪ ˈoʊld lˈʌvd vˈɔɪs ʃiː sˈiːmd tə hˈɪɹ: "aɪ wˈeɪt tə mˈiːt ðˈiː: biː ʌv tʃˈɪɹ, fɔːɹ ˈɔːl ɪz wˈɛl!"