text_original: What portent in thy tone, As here thy giant choirs, august, alone, Roll forth their diapason to the blast! — Great waters hurled and broken and upcast In timeless splendour and immeasured moan.
text_transcription: WHAT PORTENT IN THY TONE AS HERE THY GIANT CHOIRS AUGUST ALONE ROLL FORTH THEIR DIRE PEASANT TO THE BLAST GREAT WATERS HURLED AND BROKEN AND UPCAST IN TIMELESS SPLENDOR AND IMMEASURED MOAN
phonemes: wˌʌt pˈɔːɹtənt ɪn ðˌaɪ tˈoʊn, æz hˈɪɹ ðˌaɪ dʒˈaɪənt kwˈaɪɚz, ˈɔːɡəst, ɐlˈoʊn, ɹˈoʊl fˈɔːɹθ ðɛɹ dˈaɪəpˌæsən tə ðə blˈæst! — ɡɹˈeɪt wˈɔːɾɚz hˈɜːld ænd bɹˈoʊkən ænd ʌpkˈæst ɪn tˈaɪmləs splˈɛndɚ ænd ɪmˈɛʒɚd mˈoʊn.