text_original: And amid the noise and confusion Of wheels that were never still, He heard the wind through the scented pines On a rough, storm beaten hill; While, beyond a maze of painted threads, Where his tireless shuttle flew, In fancy he saw the sunlit waves Beckon him out to the blue.
text_transcription: AND AMID THE NOISE AND CONFUSION OF WHEELS THAT WERE NEVER STILL HE HEARD THE WIND THROUGH THE SCENTED PINES ON A ROUGH STORM BEATEN HILL WHILE BEYOND A MAZE OF PAINTED THREADS WHERE HIS TIRELESS SHUTTLE FLEW IN FANCY HE SAW THE SUNLIT WAVES BECKON HIM OUT TO THE BLUE
phonemes: ænd ɐmˈɪd ðə nˈɔɪz ænd kənfjˈuːʒən ʌv wˈiːlz ðæt wɜː nˈɛvɚ stˈɪl, hiː hˈɜːd ðə wˈɪnd θɹuː ðə sˈɛntᵻd pˈaɪnz ˌɔn ɐ ɹˈʌf, stˈɔːɹm bˈiːʔn̩ hˈɪl; wˈaɪl, bᵻjˌɔnd ɐ mˈeɪz ʌv pˈeɪntᵻd θɹˈɛdz, wˌɛɹ hɪz tˈaɪɚləs ʃˈʌɾəl flˈuː, ɪn fˈænsi hiː sˈɔː ðə sˈʌnlɪt wˈeɪvz bˈɛkən hˌɪm ˈaʊt tə ðə blˈuː.