text_original: In solemn midnight marches Beneath dark forest arches They fancied that their hungry souls found God ; His angels clad in light Stole softly through the night, Leaving no impress on the yielding sod, And bore to mortal ears Tidings from other spheres, The undiscovered way no man hath trod. 448 ST. JOHN'S EVE Ah ! what if it were true
text_transcription: IN SOLEMN MIDNIGHT MARCHES BENEATH DARK FOREST ARCHES THEY FANCIED THAT THEIR HUNGRY SOULS FOUND GOD HIS ANGELS CLAD IN LIGHT STOLE SOFTLY THROUGH THE NIGHT LEAVING NO IMPRESS ON THE YIELDING SOD AND BORE TO MORTAL EARS TIDINGS FROM OTHER SPHERES THE UNDISCOVERED WAY NO MAN HAS TROD AH WHAT IF IT WERE TRUE
phonemes: ɪn sˈɑːləm mˈɪdnaɪt mˈɑːɹtʃᵻz bᵻnˌiːθ dˈɑːɹk fˈɔːɹɪst ˈɑːɹtʃᵻz ðeɪ fˈænsid ðæt ðɛɹ hˈʌŋɡɹi sˈoʊlz fˈaʊnd ɡˈɑːd ; hɪz ˈeɪndʒəlz klˈæd ɪn lˈaɪt stˈoʊl sˈɔftli θɹuː ðə nˈaɪt, lˈiːvɪŋ nˈoʊ ɪmpɹˈɛs ɔnðə jˈiːldɪŋ sˈɑːd, ænd bˈɔːɹ tə mˈɔːɹɾəl ˈɪɹz tˈaɪdɪŋz fɹʌm ˈʌðɚ sfˈɪɹz, ðɪ ʌndɪskˈʌvɚd wˈeɪ nˈoʊ mˈæn hæθ tɹˈɑːd. fˈɔːɹhˈʌndɹɪd fˈɔːɹɾi ˈeɪt sənt. dʒˈɑːnz ˈiːv ˈɑː ! wˌʌt ɪf ɪt wɜː tɹˈuː