text_original: What factory then blurred the light Of golden suns, when nothing blacker than the shades Of coming rain climbed up the heather mantled height?
text_transcription: WHAT FACTORY THEN BLURRED THE LIGHT OF GOLDEN SUNS WHEN NOTHING BLACKER THAN THE SHADES OF COMING RAIN CLIMBED UP THE HEATHER MANTLE TIDE
phonemes: wˌʌt fˈæktɚɹi ðˈɛn blˈɜːd ðə lˈaɪt ʌv ɡˈoʊldən sˈʌnz, wˌɛn nˈʌθɪŋ blˈækɚ ðɐn ðə ʃˈeɪdz ʌv kˈʌmɪŋ ɹˈeɪn klˈaɪmd ˌʌp ðə hˈɛðɚ mˈæntəld hˈaɪt?