text_original: Beneath the tower of the lonesome hall, Stone stairs creep down where the slow tide flows, There, out of a niche in the mouldering wall, Low leaneth a royal tropical rose: Who set it there none cares, nor knows, Long years ago in the mouldering wall, But the Lady Cecile.
text_transcription: BENEATH THE TOWER OF THE LONESOME HALL STONE STAIRS CREEP DOWN WHERE THE SLOW TIDE FLOWS THERE OUT OF A NICHE IN THE MOULDERING WALL LOW LEANETH A ROYAL TROPICAL ROSE WHO SET IT THERE NONE CARES NOR KNOWS LONG YEARS AGO IN THE MOULDERING WALL BUT THE LADY CECIL
phonemes: bᵻnˌiːθ ðə tˈaʊɚɹ ʌvðə lˈoʊnsʌm hˈɔːl, stˈoʊn stˈɛɹz kɹˈiːp dˌaʊn wˌɛɹ ðə slˈoʊ tˈaɪd flˈoʊz, ðˈɛɹ, ˌaʊɾəv ɐ nˈɪtʃ ɪnðə mˈoʊldɚɹɪŋ wˈɔːl, lˈoʊ lˈiːnəθ ɐ ɹˈɔɪəl tɹˈɑːpɪkəl ɹˈoʊz: hˌuː sˈɛt ɪt ðɛɹ nˈʌn kˈɛɹz, nˈɔːɹ nˈoʊz, lˈɔŋ jˈɪɹz ɐɡˈoʊ ɪnðə mˈoʊldɚɹɪŋ wˈɔːl, bˌʌt ðə lˈeɪdi sˈɛsiːl.