text_original: Oft in my fancy's wanderings, I've wished that little isle had wings, And we, within its fairy bowers, Were wafted off to seas unknown, Where not a pulse should beat but ours, And we might live, love, die alone!
text_transcription: OFT IN MY FANCY'S WANDERINGS I WISHED THAT LITTLE ISLE HAD WINGS AND WE WITHIN ITS FAIRY BOWERS WERE WAFTED OFF TO CEASE UNKNOWN WHERE NOT A PULSE SHOULD BEAT BUT OURS AND WE MIGHT LIVE LOVE DIE ALONE
phonemes: ˈɔft ɪn maɪ fˈænsiz wˈɔndɚɹɪŋz, aɪv wˈɪʃt ðæt lˈɪɾəl ˈaɪəl hæd wˈɪŋz, ænd wiː, wɪðˌɪn ɪts fˈɛɹi bˈaʊɚz, wɜː wˈæftᵻd ˈɔf tə sˈiːz ʌnnˈoʊn, wˌɛɹ nˌɑːɾə pˈʌls ʃˌʊd bˈiːt bˌʌt aʊɚz, ænd wiː mˌaɪt lˈɪv, lˈʌv, dˈaɪ ɐlˈoʊn!