text_original: So brief our existence, a glimpse, at the most, Is all we can have of the few we hold dear; Digitized by Google 3C8 POEMS OF FRIEXD&HIP. And oft even joy is unheeded and lost For w ant of some heart that could echo it, near. Ah, well may we hope, when this short life is gone, To meet in some world of more permanent bliss; For a smile, or a grasp of the hand, hast'ning on, Is all we enjoy of each other in this.
text_transcription: SO BRIEF OUR EXISTENCE A GLIMPSE AT THE MOST IS ALL WE CAN HAVE OF THE FEW WE HOLD DEAR AND OFT EVEN JOY IS UNHEEDED AND LOST FOR WANT OF SOME HEART THAT COULD ECHO IT NEAR HOW WELL MAY WE HOPE WHEN THIS SHORT LIFE IS GONE TO MEET IN SOME WORLD OF MORE PERMANENT BLISS FOR A SMILE OR A GRASP OF THE HAND HASTENING ON IS ALL WE ENJOY OF EACH OTHER IN THIS
phonemes: sˌoʊ bɹˈiːf ˌaʊɚɹ ɛɡzˈɪstəns, ɐ ɡlˈɪmps, æt ðə mˈoʊst, ɪz ˈɔːl wiː kæn hæv ʌvðə fjˈuː wiː hˈoʊld dˈɪɹ; dˈɪdʒɪtˌaɪzd baɪ ɡˈuːɡəl θɹˈiː sˈiː ˈeɪt pˈoʊᵻmz ʌv fɹˈiːksd ænd hˈɪp. ænd ˈɔft ˈiːvən dʒˈɔɪ ɪz ʌnhˈiːdᵻd ænd lˈɔst fɔːɹ dˈʌbəljˌuː ˈænt ʌv sˌʌm hˈɑːɹt ðæt kʊd ˈɛkoʊ ɪt, nˈɪɹ. ˈɑː, wˈɛl mˈeɪ wiː hˈoʊp, wˌɛn ðɪs ʃˈɔːɹt lˈaɪf ɪz ɡˈɔn, tə mˈiːt ɪn sˌʌm wˈɜːld ʌv mˈɔːɹ pˈɜːmənənt blˈɪs; fɚɹə smˈaɪl, ɔːɹ ɐ ɡɹˈæsp ʌvðə hˈænd, hˈeɪstnɪŋ ˈɔn, ɪz ˈɔːl wiː ɛndʒˈɔɪ ʌv ˈiːtʃ ˈʌðɚɹ ɪn ðˈɪs.