text_original: Death was in that poisonous wave, And in its gulf a fitting grave For him who thence could solace bring To his lone imagining— Whose solitary soul could make An Eden of that dim lake.
text_transcription: DEATH WAS IN THAT POISONOUS WAVE AND IN ITS GULF A FITTING GRAVE FOR HIM WHO THENCE COULD SOLACE BRING TO HIS LONE IMAGINING WHOSE SOLITARY SOUL COULD MAKE AN EDEN OF THAT DIM LAKE
phonemes: dˈɛθ wʌz ɪn ðæt pˈɔɪzənəs wˈeɪv, ænd ɪn ɪts ɡˈʌlf ɐ fˈɪɾɪŋ ɡɹˈeɪv fɔːɹ hˌɪm hˌuː ðˈɛns kʊd sˈɑːlɪs bɹˈɪŋ tə hɪz lˈoʊn ɪmˈædʒɪnɪŋ— hˌuːz sˈɑːlətˌɛɹi sˈoʊl kʊd mˌeɪk ɐn ˈiːdən ʌv ðæt dˈɪm lˈeɪk.