text_original: O patient toiler in the silent Night ! Thy triumphs stand about us, balm and book, Complexities of steel and engines bright, The wings that serve our speed, And, whatso way one look, A myriad of shapes of human joy or need.
text_transcription: O PATIENT TOILER IN THE SILENT NIGHT THY TRIUMPHS STAND ABOUT US BALM AND BOOK COMPLEXITIES OF STEEL AND ENGINES BRIGHT THE WINGS THAT SERVE OUR SPEED AND WHATSO WAY ONE LOOK A MYRIAD OF SHAPES OF HUMAN JOY OR NEED
phonemes: ˈoʊ pˈeɪʃənt tˈɔɪlɚɹ ɪnðə sˈaɪlənt nˈaɪt ! ðˌaɪ tɹˈaɪʌmfz stˈænd ɐbˈaʊt ˌʌs, bˈɑːm ænd bˈʊk, kəmplˈɛksᵻɾiz ʌv stˈiːl ænd ˈɛndʒɪnz bɹˈaɪt, ðə wˈɪŋz ðæt sˈɜːv ˌaʊɚ spˈiːd, ænd, wˈʌtsoʊ wˈeɪ wˈʌn lˈʊk, ɐ mˈɪɹɪˌæd ʌv ʃˈeɪps ʌv hjˈuːmən dʒˈɔɪ ɔːɹ nˈiːd.