text_original: Thou hast given me many roses, But never one, like this, O'erfloods both sense and spirit With such a deep, wild bliss; We must have instincts that glean up Sparse drops of this life in the cup, Whose taste shall give us all that we Can prove of immortality.
text_transcription: THOU HAST GIVEN ME MANY ROSES BUT NEVER ONE LIKE THIS OVER FLOODS BOTH SENSE AND SPIRIT WITH SUCH A DEEP WILD BLISS WE MUST HAVE INSTINCTS THAT GLEAN UP SPARSE DROPS OF THIS LIFE IN THE CUP WHOSE TASTE SHALL GIVE US ALL THAT WE CAN PROVE OF IMMORTALITY
phonemes: ðˈaʊ hˈeɪst ɡˈɪvən mˌiː mˈɛni ɹˈoʊzᵻz, bˌʌt nˈɛvɚ wˌʌn, lˈaɪk ðˈɪs, ˈɔːɹflʌdz bˈoʊθ sˈɛns ænd spˈɪɹɪt wɪð sˈʌtʃ ɐ dˈiːp, wˈaɪld blˈɪs; wiː mˈʌstɐv ˈɪnstɪŋkts ðæt ɡlˈiːn ˌʌp spˈɑːɹs dɹˈɑːps ʌv ðɪs lˈaɪf ɪnðə kˈʌp, hˌuːz tˈeɪst ʃˌæl ɡˈɪv ˌʌs ˈɔːl ðæt wiː kæn pɹˈuːv ʌv ɪmɔːɹtˈælᵻɾi.