text_original: A spice laden breeze of the south is blent With perfumed winds from the Orient And they weave o'er her a spell, For nun like she goeth now, still and sweet   And while mists like incense curl at her feet, She lingers her beads to tell.
text_transcription: A SPICE LADEN BREEZE OF THE SOUTH IS BLENT WITH PERFUMED TWINS FROM THE ORIENT AND THEY WEAVE OVER HER A SPELL FOR NUN LIKE SHE GOETH NOW STILL AND SWEET AND WHILE MISTS LIKE INCENSE CURL AT HER FEET SHE LINGERS HER BEATS TO TELL
phonemes: ɐ spˈaɪs lˈeɪdən bɹˈiːz ʌvðə sˈaʊθ ɪz blˈɛnt wɪð pˈɜːfjuːmd wˈɪndz fɹʌmðɪ ˈɔːɹiənt ænd ðeɪ wˈiːv ˈɔːɹ hɜːɹ ɐ spˈɛl, fɔːɹ nˈʌn lˈaɪk ʃiː ɡˌoʊəθ nˈaʊ, stˈɪl ænd swˈiːt ænd wˌaɪl mˈɪsts lˈaɪk ˈɪnsɛns kˈɜːl æt hɜː fˈiːt, ʃiː lˈɪŋɡɚz hɜː bˈiːdz tə tˈɛl.