text_original: O beauty making lonelier the heart, And sending forth the soul on deathless dreams ! Ill So^have we striven and wrought, that one time were The bestial folk of midden and of cave And now with lens and alchemy do test The wandering heavens and Earth their wanderer. With toil of tireless hands, How high we build, this side the awaiting grave, Scorning awhile its answer and its rest!
text_transcription: O BEAUTY MAKING LONELY AT THE HEART AND SENDING FORTH THE SOUL ON DEATHLESS DREAMS THREE SO HAVE WE STRIVEN AND WROUGHT THAT ONE TIME WERE THE BASTIAL FOLK OF MIDDEN AND OF CAVE AND NOW WITH LANDS AND ALCHEMY DOTTEST THE WANDERING HEAVENS AND EARTH THEIR WANDERER WITH TOIL OF TIRELESS HANDS HOW HIGH WE BUILD THIS SIGHT THE AWAITING GRAVE SCORNING AWHILE ITS ANSWER AND ITS REST
phonemes: ˈoʊ bjˈuːɾi mˌeɪkɪŋ lˈoʊnliɚ ðə hˈɑːɹt, ænd sˈɛndɪŋ fˈɔːɹθ ðə sˈoʊl ˌɔn dˈɛθləs dɹˈiːmz ! ˈɪl sˌoʊ hæv wiː stɹˈɪvən ænd ɹˈɔːt, ðˈætwˌʌn tˈaɪm wɜː ðə bˈɛstjəl fˈoʊk ʌv mˈɪdən ænd ʌv kˈeɪv ænd nˈaʊ wɪð lˈɛnz ænd ˈælkəmi dˈuː tˈɛst ðə wˈɔndɚɹɪŋ hˈɛvənz ænd ˈɜːθ ðɛɹ wˈɔndɚɹɚ. wɪð tˈɔɪl ʌv tˈaɪɚləs hˈændz, hˌaʊ hˈaɪ wiː bˈɪld, ðɪs sˈaɪd ðɪ ɐwˈeɪɾɪŋ ɡɹˈeɪv, skˈɔːɹnɪŋ ɐwˈaɪl ɪts ˈænsɚ ænd ɪts ɹˈɛst!