text_original: Ah ! the crowd that streams around me, Endless through the weary street, Beating out an iron music From the pavement at its feet. Where the busy push and jostle, And the idle stare and stroll, With their glances that can't mingle, And that only hurt the soul.
text_transcription: AH THE CROWD THAT STREAMS AROUND ME ENDLESS THROUGH THE WEARY STREET BEATING OUT AN IRON MUSIC FROM THE PAVEMENT AT ITS FEET WHERE THE BUSY PUSH AND JOSTLE AND THE IDLE STARE AND STROLL WITH THEIR GLANCES THAT CAN'T MINGLE AND THAT ONLY HURT THE SOUL
phonemes: ˈɑː ! ðə kɹˈaʊd ðæt stɹˈiːmz ɚɹˈaʊnd mˌiː, ˈɛndləs θɹuː ðə wˈɪɹi stɹˈiːt, bˈiːɾɪŋ ˈaʊt ɐn ˈaɪɚn mjˈuːzɪk fɹʌmðə pˈeɪvmənt æɾ ɪts fˈiːt. wˌɛɹ ðə bˈɪzi pˈʊʃ ænd dʒˈɑːsəl, ænd ðɪ ˈaɪdəl stˈɛɹ ænd stɹˈoʊl, wɪð ðɛɹ ɡlˈænsᵻz ðæt kˈænt mˈɪŋɡəl, ænd ðæt ˈoʊnli hˈɜːt ðə sˈoʊl.