text_original: Gone was the shell; a sword lay in its stead, From altars of the buried sun made red — A blade he knew so well from all the rest It seemed that instant to transfix his breast.
text_transcription: GONE WAS THE SHELL A SWORD LAY IN ITS STEAD FROM ALTARS OF THE BURIED SUN MADE RED A BLADE HE KNEW SO WELL FROM ALL THE REST IT SEEMED THAT INSTANT TO TRANSFIX HIS BREAST
phonemes: ɡɔn wʌzðə ʃˈɛl; ɐ sˈɔːɹd lˈeɪ ɪn ɪts stˈɛd, fɹʌm ˈɔltɚz ʌvðə bˈɛɹid sˈʌn mˌeɪd ɹˈɛd — ɐ blˈeɪd hiː nˈuː sˌoʊ wˈɛl fɹʌm ˈɔːl ðə ɹˈɛst ɪt sˈiːmd ðæt ˈɪnstənt tə tɹænsfˈɪks hɪz bɹˈɛst.