text_original: ] The wheels of life go on the same, — 'Tis I am fallen from out the frame Of living things, and am become A name, a shadow, blind and dumb, For whom no more the skies are blue, Or the light sweet, or any hue, Or scent of flower, or song of bird, Or human voice hath any word, But only rosemary and rue.
text_transcription: THE WIELDS OF LIFE GO ON THE SAME THIS I AM FALLEN FROM OUT THE FRAME OF LIVING THINGS AND AM BECOME A NAME A SHADOW BLIND AND DUMB FOR WHOM NO MORE THE SKIES ARE BLUE OR THE LIGHT SWEET OR ANY HUE OR SCENT OF FLOWER OR SONG OF BIRD OR HUMAN VOICE HATH ANY WORD BUT ONLY ROSEMARY AND RULE
phonemes: ] ðə wˈiːlz ʌv lˈaɪf ɡˌoʊ ɔnðə sˈeɪm, — tˈɪz aɪɐm fˈɔːlən fɹʌm ˈaʊt ðə fɹˈeɪm ʌv lˈɪvɪŋ θˈɪŋz, ænd ɐm bɪkˌʌm ɐ nˈeɪm, ɐ ʃˈædoʊ, blˈaɪnd ænd dˈʌm, fɔːɹ hˈuːm nˈoʊmˌɔːɹ ðə skˈaɪz ɑːɹ blˈuː, ɔːɹ ðə lˈaɪt swˈiːt, ɔːɹ ˌɛni hjˈuː, ɔːɹ sˈɛnt ʌv flˈaʊɚ, ɔːɹ sˈɔŋ ʌv bˈɜːd, ɔːɹ hjˈuːmən vˈɔɪs hæθ ˌɛni wˈɜːd, bˌʌt ˈoʊnli ɹˈoʊzmɚɹi ænd ɹˈuː.