text_original: Incarnate soul of youth Matured in beauty, tender ardent face Where all things fair and ripe and sweet, Flower and fruit in perfect grace Of colour and of splendour, meet. O voice of nightingale, O song of thrush Ceasing within the woodlands' murmurous hush
text_transcription: INCARNATE SOUL OF YOUTH MATURED IN BEAUTY TENDER ARDENT FACE WHERE ALL THINGS FAIR AND RIPE AND SWEET FLOWER AND FRUIT IN PERFECT GRACE OF COLOUR AND OF SPLENDOUR MEET O VOICE OF NIGHTINGALE O SONG OF THRUSH CEASING WITH THE WOODLAND'S MURMUROUS HUSH
phonemes: ɪŋkˈɑːɹneɪt sˈoʊl ʌv jˈuːθ mətʃˈʊɹd ɪn bjˈuːɾi, tˈɛndɚɹ ˈɑːɹdənt fˈeɪs wˌɛɹ ˈɔːl θˈɪŋz fˈɛɹ ænd ɹˈaɪp ænd swˈiːt, flˈaʊɚɹ ænd fɹˈuːt ɪn pˈɜːfɛkt ɡɹˈeɪs ʌv kˈʌlɚ ænd ʌv splˈɛndɚ, mˈiːt. ˈoʊ vˈɔɪs ʌv nˈaɪɾɪŋɡˌeɪl, ˈoʊ sˈɔŋ ʌv θɹˈʌʃ sˈiːsɪŋ wɪðˌɪn ðə wˈʊdləndz mˈɜːmɚɹəs hˈʌʃ