text_original: And thus, as in memory's bark we shall glide, To visit the scenes of our boyhood anew, Though oft we may see, looking down on the tide, The wreck of full many a hope shining through; Yet still, as in fancy we point to the flowers That once made a garden of all the gay shore, Deceived for a moment, we '11 think them still ours, And breathe the fresh air of life's morning once more.
text_transcription: AND THUS AS IN MEMORY'S BARK WE SHALL GLIDE TO VISIT THE SCENES OF OUR BOYHOOD ANEW THOUGH OFT WE MAY SEE LOOKING DOWN ON THE TIDE THE WRECK OF FULL MANY A HOPE SHINING THROUGH YET STILL AS IN FANCY WE POINT TO THE FLOWERS THAT ONCE MADE A GARDEN OF ALL THE GAY SHORE DECEIVED FOR A MOMENT WE'LL THINK THEM STILL OURS AND BREATHE THE FRESH AIR OF LIFE'S MORNING ONCE MORE
phonemes: ænd ðˈʌs, æz ɪn mˈɛmɚɹiz bˈɑːɹk wiːʃˌɐl ɡlˈaɪd, tə vˈɪzɪt ðə sˈiːnz ʌv ˌaʊɚ bˈɔɪhʊd ɐnˈuː, ðˌoʊ ˈɔft wiː mˈeɪ sˈiː, lˈʊkɪŋ dˌaʊn ɔnðə tˈaɪd, ðə ɹˈɛk ʌv fˈʊl mˈɛni ɐ hˈoʊp ʃˈaɪnɪŋ θɹˈuː; jˈɛt stˈɪl, æz ɪn fˈænsi wiː pˈɔɪnt tə ðə flˈaʊɚz ðæt wˈʌns mˌeɪd ɐ ɡˈɑːɹdən ʌv ˈɔːl ðə ɡˈeɪ ʃˈɔːɹ, dᵻsˈiːvd fɚɹə mˈoʊmənt, wiː ɪlˈɛvən θˈɪŋk ðˌɛm stˈɪl aʊɚz, ænd bɹˈiːð ðə fɹˈɛʃ ˈɛɹ ʌv lˈaɪfz mˈɔːɹnɪŋ wˈʌns mˈɔːɹ.