text_original: The myriad wings beat south, the myriad flow rs Have said farewell to sun and rain and wind; Here sense and spirit find That change alone has empire of the hours. THE FALL OF THE YEAR Nay, tho the gaze turn backward at the gate, The going forth is certain.
text_transcription: THE MYRIAD WINGS BEAT SOUTH THE MYRIAD FLOWERS HAVE SAID FAREWELL TO SUN AND RAIN AND WIND HERE SENSE AND SPIRIT FIND THAT CHANGE ALONE HAS EMPIRE OF THE HOURS NAY THOUGH THE GAZE TURN BACKWARD AT THE GATE THE GOING FORTH IS CERTAIN
phonemes: ðə mˈɪɹɪˌæd wˈɪŋz bˈiːt sˈaʊθ, ðə mˈɪɹɪˌæd flˈoʊ ˌɑːɹɹˈɛs hæv sˈɛd fɛɹwˈɛl tə sˈʌn ænd ɹˈeɪn ænd wˈɪnd; hˈɪɹ sˈɛns ænd spˈɪɹɪt fˈaɪnd ðæt tʃˈeɪndʒ ɐlˈoʊn hɐz ˈɛmpaɪɚɹ ʌvðɪ ˈaʊɚz. ðə fˈɔːl ʌvðə jˈɪɹ nˈeɪ, ðˈoʊ ðə ɡˈeɪz tˈɜːn bˈækwɚd æt ðə ɡˈeɪt, ðə ɡˌoʊɪŋ fˈɔːɹθ ɪz sˈɜːʔn̩.