text_original: And when from Time shall drop Earth's days Like chaff from the bloom of the year sublime, With the gentle spirits of every time, And the martyr souls, he will find his place. So answers will come to our seeking wills, Nevermore will his sad face vex your sight, For you never will make your robes so white As to stand by him on the heavenly hills.
text_transcription: AND WHEN FROM TIME SHALL DROP EARTH'S DAYS LIKE CHAFF FROM THE BLOOM OF THE YEAR SUBLIME WITH THE GENTLE SPIRITS OF EVERY TIME AND THE MARTYR SOULS HE WILL FIND HIS PLACE SO ANSWERS WILL COME TO OUR SEEKING WILLS NEVER MORE WILL HIS SAD FACE VEX YOUR SIGHT FOR YOU NEVER WILL MAKE YOUR ROBES SO WHITE AS TO STAND BY HIM ON THE HEAVENLY HILLS
phonemes: ænd wɛn fɹʌm tˈaɪm ʃˌæl dɹˈɑːp ˈɜːθz dˈeɪz lˈaɪk tʃˈæf fɹʌmðə blˈuːm ʌvðə jˈɪɹ sʌblˈaɪm, wɪððə dʒˈɛntəl spˈɪɹɪts ʌv ˈɛvɹi tˈaɪm, ænd ðə mˈɑːɹɾɚ sˈoʊlz, hiː wɪl fˈaɪnd hɪz plˈeɪs. sˌoʊ ˈænsɚz wɪl kˈʌm tʊ ˌaʊɚ sˈiːkɪŋ wˈɪlz, nˌɛvɚmˈɔːɹ wɪl hɪz sˈæd fˈeɪs vˈɛks jʊɹ sˈaɪt, fɔːɹ juː nˈɛvɚ wɪl mˌeɪk jʊɹ ɹˈoʊbz sˌoʊ wˈaɪt æz tə stˈænd baɪ hˌɪm ɔnðə hˈɛvənli hˈɪlz.