text_original: From yonder hill I spy on man And marvel at his need, Who fashions, in a season's span, A thousand fanes to Greed; Perchance from each, his worship done, He ventures forth repaid, But grant thou me the spendthrift sun And berries of the glade.
text_transcription: FROM YONDER HILL I SPY ON MAN AND MARVEL AT HIS NEED WHO FASHIONS IN A SEASON'S SPAN A THOUSAND FANES TO GREET PERCHANCE FROM EACH HIS WORSHIP DONE HE VENTURES FORTH REPAID BUT GRANT THOU ME THE SPENT SWIFT SUN AND BERRIES OF THE GLADE
phonemes: fɹʌm jˈɑːndɚ hˈɪl aɪ spˈaɪ ˌɔn mˈæn ænd mˈɑːɹvəl æt hɪz nˈiːd, hˌuː fˈæʃənz, ɪn ɐ sˈiːzənz spˈæn, ɐ θˈaʊzənd fˈeɪnz tə ɡɹˈiːd; pɚtʃˈæns fɹʌm ˈiːtʃ, hɪz wˈɜːʃɪp dˈʌn, hiː vˈɛntʃɚz fˈɔːɹθ ɹᵻpˈeɪd, bˌʌt ɡɹˈænt ðˈaʊ mˌiː ðə spˈɛndθɹɪft sˈʌn ænd bˈɛɹiz ʌvðə ɡlˈeɪd.