text_original: If thou dost bid thy friend farewell, But for one night though that farewell may be, Press thou his hand in thine. How canst thou tell how far from thee Fate or caprice may lead his steps ere that to morrow comes? Men have been known to lightly turn the corner of a street, And days have grown to months, and months to lagging years, Ere they have looked in loving eyes again. Parting, at best, is underlaid With tears and pain.
text_transcription: IF THOU DOST BID THY FRIEND FAREWELL BUT FOR ONE NIGHT THOUGH THAT FAREWELL MAY BE PRESS THOU HIS HAND IN THINE HOW CANST THOU TELL HOW FAR FROM THEE FATE OR CAPRICE MAY LEAD HIS STEPS ERE THAT TO MORROW COMES MEN HAVE BEEN KNOWN TO LIGHTLY TURN THE CORNER OF A STREET AND DAYS HAVE GROWN TO MONTHS AND MONTHS TO LAGGING YEARS ERE THEY HAVE LOOKED IN LOVING EYES AGAIN PARTING AT BEST IS UNDERLAID WITH TEARS AND PAIN
phonemes: ɪf ðˈaʊ dˈɑːst bˈɪd ðˌaɪ fɹˈɛnd fɛɹwˈɛl, bˌʌt fɔːɹ wˈʌn nˈaɪt ðˌoʊ ðæt fɛɹwˈɛl mˈeɪ bˈiː, pɹˈɛs ðˈaʊ hɪz hˈænd ɪn ðˈaɪn. hˌaʊ kˈænst ðˈaʊ tˈɛl hˌaʊ fˈɑːɹ fɹʌm ðiː fˈeɪt ɔːɹ kɐpɹˈiːs mˈeɪ lˈiːd hɪz stˈɛps ˈɛɹ ðæt tə mˈɑːɹoʊ kˈʌmz? mˈɛn hɐvbɪn nˈoʊn tə lˈaɪtli tˈɜːn ðə kˈɔːɹnɚɹ əvə stɹˈiːt, ænd dˈeɪz hæv ɡɹˈoʊn tə mˈʌnθs, ænd mˈʌnθs tə lˈæɡɪŋ jˈɪɹz, ˈɛɹ ðeɪ hæv lˈʊkt ɪn lˈʌvɪŋ ˈaɪz ɐɡˈɛn. pˈɑːɹɾɪŋ, æt bˈɛst, ɪz ˌʌndɚlˈeɪd wɪð tˈɪɹz ænd pˈeɪn.