text_original: . . . . . Then we ate of the ravening Leaf As our savage fathers of old. No longer our wounds made us weak, No longer our pulses were cold.
text_transcription: THEN WE ATE OF THE RAVENING LEAF AS OUR SAVAGE FATHERS OF OLD NO LONGER OUR WOUNDS MADE US WEAK NO LONGER OUR PULSES WERE COLD
phonemes: . . . . . ðˈɛn wiː ˈeɪt ʌvðə ɹˈævənɪŋ lˈiːf æz ˌaʊɚ sˈævɪdʒ fˈɑːðɚz ʌv ˈoʊld. nˌoʊ lˈɑːŋɡɚɹ ˌaʊɚ wˈuːndz mˌeɪd ˌʌs wˈiːk, nˌoʊ lˈɑːŋɡɚɹ ˌaʊɚ pˈʌlsᵻz wɜː kˈoʊld.