text_original: Where down the glen, across the shallow ford, Stretches the open aisle from scene to scene, By halted horses silently we lean, Gazing enchanted from our steeper sward.
text_transcription: WHERE DOWN THE GLEN ACROSS THE SHALLOW FORD STRETCHES THE OPEN AISLE FROM SCENE TO SCENE BY HALTED HORSES SILENTLY WE LEAN GAZING ENCHANTED FROM OUR STEEPER SWARD
phonemes: wˌɛɹ dˌaʊn ðə ɡlˈɛn, əkɹˌɑːs ðə ʃˈæloʊ fˈɔːɹd, stɹˈɛtʃᵻz ðɪ ˈoʊpən ˈaɪəl fɹʌm sˈiːn tə sˈiːn, baɪ hˈɔltᵻd hˈɔːɹsᵻz sˈaɪləntli wiː lˈiːn, ɡˈeɪzɪŋ ɛntʃˈæntᵻd fɹʌm ˌaʊɚ stˈiːpɚ swˈɔːɹd.