text_original: How slow Yon clouds, like giants overthrown Sink to the ocean's western verge, From whence incessant roll Thro unresponding years The waves whose anthem challenges the soul — The everlasting surge Whose ancient salt is in our blood and tears.
text_transcription: HOW SLOW YON CLOUDS LIKE GIANTS OVERTHROWN SINK TO THE OCEAN'S WESTERN VERGE FROM WHENCE INCESSANT ROLL THROUGH UNRESPONDING YEARS THE WAVES WHOSE ANTHEM CHALLENGES THE SOUL THE EVERLASTING SEARCH WHOSE ANCIENT SOUL IS IN OUR BLOOD AND TEARS
phonemes: hˌaʊ slˈoʊ jˈɑːn klˈaʊdz, lˈaɪk dʒˈaɪənts ˌoʊvɚθɹˈoʊn sˈɪŋk tə ðɪ ˈoʊʃənz wˈɛstɚn vˈɜːdʒ, fɹʌm wˈɛns ɪnsˈɛsənt ɹˈoʊl θɹˈoʊ ˌʌnɹᵻspˈɑːndɪŋ jˈɪɹz ðə wˈeɪvz hˌuːz ˈænθəm tʃˈælɪndʒᵻz ðə sˈoʊl — ðɪ ˌɛvɚlˈæstɪŋ sˈɜːdʒ hˌuːz ˈeɪntʃənt sˈɔlt ɪz ɪn ˌaʊɚ blˈʌd ænd tˈɪɹz.