text_original: While the air Breathed all the scents of all untrodden flowers, And brooks poured silver through the glimmering glades, Then sweetly wound through virgin ground. Must all that beauty pass?
text_transcription: WHILE THE AIR BREATHED ALL THE SCENTS OF ALL UNTRODDEN FLOWERS AND BROOKS POURED SILVER THROUGH THE GLIMMERING GLADES THEN SWEETLY WOUND THROUGH VERGING GROUND MUST ALL THAT BEAUTY PASS
phonemes: wˌaɪl ðɪ ˈɛɹ bɹˈiːðd ˈɔːl ðə sˈɛnts ʌv ˈɔːl ʌntɹˈɑːdən flˈaʊɚz, ænd bɹˈʊks pˈɔːɹd sˈɪlvɚ θɹuː ðə ɡlˈɪmɚɹɪŋ ɡlˈeɪdz, ðˈɛn swˈiːtli wˈuːnd θɹuː vˈɜːdʒɪn ɡɹˈaʊnd. mˈʌst ˈɔːl ðæt bjˈuːɾi pˈæs?