text_original: Ye seem as flowers exiled. 32 THE HOUSE OF ORCHIDS More beautiful because they die so soon; But who the gods that could have scorned Your tenderness unmarred^ Put first ye forth your fragile wings, Less of the form than of the soul of things, Where seraphim had mourned In Eden's evening, heavy starred.
text_transcription: YE SEEM AS FLOW EXILED MORE BEAUTIFUL BECAUSE THEY DIE SO SOON BUT WHO THE GODS THAT COULD HAVE SCORNED YOUR TENDERNESS UNMARKED PUT FIRST YEAR FORTH YOUR FRAGILE WINGS LESS OF THE FORM THAN OF THE SOUL OF THINGS WHERE SERAPHIM HAD MOURNED IN EDEN'S EVENING HEAVY START
phonemes: jiː sˈiːm æz flˈaʊɚz ˈɛɡzaɪld. θˈɜːɾi tˈuː ðə hˈaʊs ʌv ˈɔːɹkɪdz mˈɔːɹ bjˈuːɾifəl bɪkˈʌz ðeɪ dˈaɪ sˌoʊ sˈuːn; bˌʌt hˌuː ðə ɡˈɑːdz ðæt kˌʊdɐv skˈɔːɹnd jʊɹ tˈɛndɚnəs ʌnmˈɑːɹd pˌʊt fˈɜːst jiː fˈɔːɹθ jʊɹ fɹˈædʒəl wˈɪŋz, lˈɛs ʌvðə fˈɔːɹm ðɐn ʌvðə sˈoʊl ʌv θˈɪŋz, wˌɛɹ sˈɛɹəfɪm hæd mˈɔːɹnd ɪn ˈiːdənz ˈiːvnɪŋ, hˈɛvi stˈɑːɹd.