text_original: But nothing passes the door all day, Though my watching eyes grow worn and dim, Save a lean, grey wolf that swings away To the far horizon rim.
text_transcription: BUT NOTHING PASSES THE DOOR ALL DAY THOUGH MY WATCHING EYES GROW WORN AND DIM SAVE A LEAN GRAY WOLF THAT SWINGS AWAY TO THE FAR HORIZON RIM
phonemes: bˌʌt nˈʌθɪŋ pˈæsᵻz ðə dˈɔːɹ ˈɔːl dˈeɪ, ðˌoʊ maɪ wˈɑːtʃɪŋ ˈaɪz ɡɹˈoʊ wˈɔːɹn ænd dˈɪm, sˈeɪv ɐ lˈiːn, ɡɹˈeɪ wˈʊlf ðæt swˈɪŋz ɐwˈeɪ tə ðə fˈɑːɹ hɚɹˈaɪzən ɹˈɪm.