text_original: No more by summer breezes fanned, The place was desolate and gray; But still my dream was to command New life into that shrunken clay. I tried it. Yes, you scan to day, With uncommiserating glee, The songs of one who strove to play The broken flutes of Arcady.
text_transcription: NO MORE BY SUMMER BREEZES FANNED THE PLACE WAS DESOLATE AND GRAY BUT STILL MY DREAM WAS TO COMMEND NEW LIFE INTO THAT SHRUNKEN CLAY I TRIED IT YES YOU SCANNED TO DAY WITH UNCOMMISERATING GLEE THE SONGS OF ONE WHO STROVE TO PLAY THE BROKEN FLUTES OF ARCADE
phonemes: nˈoʊmˌɔːɹ baɪ sˈʌmɚ bɹˈiːzᵻz fˈænd, ðə plˈeɪs wʌz dˈɛsələt ænd ɡɹˈeɪ; bˌʌt stˈɪl maɪ dɹˈiːm wʌz tə kəmˈænd nˈuː lˈaɪf ˌɪntʊ ðæt ʃɹˈʌŋkən klˈeɪ. aɪ tɹˈaɪd ɪt. jˈɛs, juː skˈæn tə dˈeɪ, wɪð ʌŋkəmˈɪsɚɹˌeɪɾɪŋ ɡlˈiː, ðə sˈɔŋz ʌv wˈʌn hˌuː stɹˈoʊv tə plˈeɪ ðə bɹˈoʊkən flˈuːts ʌv ˈɑːɹkædi.