text_original: Were not mortal sorrow An immortal shade, Then would I to morrow Such a flower be made, And live in the dear woods where my lost child  hood played.
text_transcription: WERE NOT MORTAL SORROW AN IMMORTAL SHADE THEN WOULD I TO MORROW SUCH A FLOWER BE MADE AND LIVE IN THE DEAR WOODS WHERE MY LOST CHILDHOOD PLAYED
phonemes: wɜː nˌɑːt mˈɔːɹɾəl sˈɑːɹoʊ ɐn ɪmˈɔːɹɾəl ʃˈeɪd, ðˈɛn wʊd aɪ tə mˈɑːɹoʊ sˈʌtʃ ɐ flˈaʊɚ biː mˈeɪd, ænd lˈɪv ɪn ðə dˈɪɹ wˈʊdz wˌɛɹ maɪ lˈɔst tʃˈaɪld hˈʊd plˈeɪd.