text_original: Go,    for the winds are tearing them away,    Nor think to riddle the dead words they say, Nor any more to feel them as they fall; But go! and if you trust her she will call. There is the western gate, Luke Havergal    Luke Havergal.
text_transcription: GO FOR THE WINDS ARE TEARING THEM AWAY NOR THINK TO RIDDLE THE DEAD WORDS THEY SAY NOR ANY MORE TO FEEL THEM AS THEY FALL BUT GO AND IF YOU TRUST HER SHE WILL CALL THERE IS THE WESTERN GATE LUKE HAVELL LUKE HAVERGAL
phonemes: ɡˈoʊ,    fɚðə wˈɪndz ɑːɹ tˈɛɹɪŋ ðˌɛm ɐwˈeɪ,    nˈɔːɹ θˈɪŋk tə ɹˈɪdəl ðə dˈɛd wˈɜːdz ðeɪ sˈeɪ, nˈɔːɹ ˌɛni mˈɔːɹ tə fˈiːl ðˌɛm æz ðeɪ fˈɔːl; bˌʌt ɡˈoʊ! ænd ɪf juː tɹˈʌst hɜː ʃiː wɪl kˈɔːl. ðɛɹ ɪz ðə wˈɛstɚn ɡˈeɪt, lˈuːk hævˈɜːɡəl lˈuːk hævˈɜːɡəl.