text_original: Poor Fra Giovanni bawling at the Mass Were out of tune now, for a small brown bird Sings overhead, and through the long cool grass I see that throbbing throat which once I heard On starlit hills of flower starred Arcady, Once where the white and crescent sand of Salamis meets sea.
text_transcription: POOR FRA GIOVANNI BAWLING AT THE MASS WERE OUT OF TUNE NOW FOR A SMALL BROWN BIRD SINGS OVERHEAD AND THROUGH THE LONG COOL GRASS I SEE THAT THROBBING THROAT WHICH ONCE I HEARD ON STARLIT HILLS OF FLOWER STARRED ARCADY ONCE WHERE THE WHITE AND CRESCENT SAND OF SALAMIS MEETS SEA
phonemes: pˈʊɹ fɹˈɑː dʒəvˈɑːni bˈɔːlɪŋ æt ðə mˈæs wɜːɹ ˌaʊɾəv tˈuːn nˈaʊ, fɚɹə smˈɔːl bɹˈaʊn bˈɜːd sˈɪŋz ˌoʊvɚhˈɛd, ænd θɹuː ðə lˈɔŋ kˈuːl ɡɹˈæs aɪ sˈiː ðæt θɹˈɑːbɪŋ θɹˈoʊt wˌɪtʃ wˈʌns aɪ hˈɜːd ˌɔn stˈɑːɹlɪt hˈɪlz ʌv flˈaʊɚ stˈɑːɹd ˈɑːɹkædi, wˈʌns wˌɛɹ ðə wˈaɪt ænd kɹˈɛsənt sˈænd ʌv sɐlˈɑːmiz mˈiːts sˈiː.