text_original: XII. For in this brief existence, not alone Do our lives gather what our hands have sown, But we reap, too, what others long ago Sowed, careless of the harvests that might grow. Thus hour by hour the humblest human souls Inscribe in cipher on unending scrolls, The history of nations yet to be; Incite fierce bloody wars, to rage from sea to sea, XIII. Or pave the way to peace.
text_transcription: TWELVE FOR IN THIS BRIEF EXISTENCE NOT ALONE DO OUR LIVES GATHER WHAT OUR HANDS HAVE SOWN BUT WE WEAP TOO WHAT OTHERS LONG AGO SOWED CARELESS OF THE HARVEST THAT MIGHT GROW THUS HOUR BY HOUR THE HUMBLEST HUMAN SOULS INSCRIBE IN CIPHER ON UNENDING SCROLLS THE HISTORY OF NATIONS YET TO BE INSIDE FIERCE BLOODY WARS TO RAGE FROM SEA TO SEA THIRTEEN ALL PAVED AWAY TO PEACE
phonemes: ɹˌoʊmən twˈɛlv. fɔːɹ ɪn ðɪs bɹˈiːf ɛɡzˈɪstəns, nˌɑːt ɐlˈoʊn dˈuː ˌaʊɚ lˈaɪvz ɡˈæðɚ wʌt ˌaʊɚ hˈændz hæv sˈoʊn, bˌʌt wiː ɹˈiːp, tˈuː, wˌʌt ˈʌðɚz lˈɔŋ ɐɡˈoʊ sˈoʊd, kˈɛɹləs ʌvðə hˈɑːɹvɪsts ðæt mˌaɪt ɡɹˈoʊ. ðˈʌs ˈaʊɚ baɪ ˈaʊɚ ðə hˈʌmbəlɪst hjˈuːmən sˈoʊlz ɪnskɹˈaɪb ɪn sˈaɪfɚɹ ˌɔn ˌʌnˈɛndɪŋ skɹˈoʊlz, ðə hˈɪstɚɹi ʌv nˈeɪʃənz jˈɛt tə bˈiː; ɪnsˈaɪt fˈɪɹs blˈʌdi wˈɔːɹz, tə ɹˈeɪdʒ fɹʌm sˈiː tə sˈiː, ɹˌoʊmən θˈɜːtiːn. ɔːɹ pˈeɪv ðə wˈeɪ tə pˈiːs.