text_original: Rather, from grass and air and many spheres, In prophecy his spirit sinks away; And under English eaves, more still than they, Far off, incoming, wonderful, he hears The long arrested, the believing years Carry the sea wall! Shall he, sighing, say: "Farewell to Faith, for she is dead at best Who had such beauty"?
text_transcription: RATHER FROM GRASS AND AIR AND MANY SPHERES IN PROPHECY HIS SPIRIT SINKS AWAY AND UNDER ENGLISH EVES MORE STILL THAN THEY FAR OFF INCOMING WONDERFUL HE HEARS THE LONG ARRESTED THE BELIEVING YEARS CARRY THE SEA WALL SHALL HE SIGHING SAY FAREWELL TO FAITH FOR SHE IS DEAD AT BEST WHO HAD SUCH BEAUTY
phonemes: ɹˈæðɚ, fɹʌm ɡɹˈæs ænd ˈɛɹ ænd mˈɛni sfˈɪɹz, ɪn pɹˈɑːfəsi hɪz spˈɪɹɪt sˈɪŋks ɐwˈeɪ; ænd ˌʌndɚɹ ˈɪŋɡlɪʃ ˈiːvz, mˈɔːɹ stˈɪl ðɐn ðeɪ, fˈɑːɹ ˈɔf, ˈɪŋkʌmˌɪŋ, wˈʌndɚfəl, hiː hˈɪɹz ðə lˈɔŋ ɚɹˈɛstᵻd, ðə bᵻlˈiːvɪŋ jˈɪɹz kˈæɹi ðə sˈiː wˈɔːl! ʃˈæl hiː, sˈaɪɪŋ, sˈeɪ: "fɛɹwˈɛl tə fˈeɪθ, fɔːɹ ʃiː ɪz dˈɛd æt bˈɛst hˌuː hæd sˈʌtʃ bjˈuːɾi"?