text_original: 32 ROSE TIDE 33 These deeply curtaining boughs of velvet green That drop from azure heaven to flowery sward Not then are seen, But all the skies are barred By rigid forms that yearn for thy return — By weeping clouds that thine aloofness mourn.
text_transcription: THESE DEEPLY CURTAINING BOUGHS OF VELVET GREEN THAT DROP FROM AZURE HEAVEN TO FLOWERY SWORD NOT THEN ARE SEEN BUT ALL THE SKIES ARE BARRED BY RIGID FORMS THAT YEARN FOR THY RETURN BY WEEPING CLOUDS THAT THINE ALOOFNESS MOURN
phonemes: θˈɜːɾi tˈuː ɹˈoʊz tˈaɪd θˈɜːɾi θɹˈiː ðiːz dˈiːpli kˈɜːtənɪŋ bˈaʊz ʌv vˈɛlvɪt ɡɹˈiːn ðæt dɹˈɑːp fɹʌm ˈæʒɚ hˈɛvən tə flˈaʊɚɹi swˈɔːɹd nˌɑːt ðˈɛn ɑːɹ sˈiːn, bˌʌt ˈɔːl ðə skˈaɪz ɑːɹ bˈɑːɹd baɪ ɹˈɪdʒɪd fˈɔːɹmz ðæt jˈɜːn fɔːɹ ðˌaɪ ɹᵻtˈɜːn — baɪ wˈiːpɪŋ klˈaʊdz ðæt ðaɪn ɐlˈuːfnəs mˈɔːɹn.