text_original: To serve thro' many nights The youngest of the Lights Until it burns sublime From uncontested heights — The whitest beacon on the coasts of Time I Behold her, our dear country, where she stands Beneath the unconquered skies, The sword and trumpet in her sheathed hands, But mercy in her eyes!
text_transcription: TO SERVE THROUGH MANY NIGHTS THE YOUNGEST OF THE LIGHTS UNTIL IT BURNS SUBLIME FROM UNCONTESTED HEDES THE WHITEST BEACON ON THE COASTS OF TIME BEHOLD HER OUR DEAR COUNTRY WHERE SHE STANDS BENEATH THE UNCONQUERED SKIES THE SWORD AND TRUMPET IN HER SHEATHED HANDS BUT MERCY IN HER EYES
phonemes: tə sˈɜːv θɹˈoʊ mˈɛni nˈaɪts ðə jˈʌŋɡɪst ʌvðə lˈaɪts ʌntˈɪl ɪt bˈɜːnz sʌblˈaɪm fɹʌm ʌŋkəntˈɛstᵻd hˈaɪts — ðə wˈaɪɾɪst bˈiːkən ɔnðə kˈoʊsts ʌv tˈaɪm aɪ bᵻhˈoʊld hɜː, ˌaʊɚ dˈɪɹ kˈʌntɹi, wˌɛɹ ʃiː stˈændz bᵻnˌiːθ ðɪ ʌŋkˈɑːŋkɚd skˈaɪz, ðə sˈɔːɹd ænd tɹˈʌmpɪt ɪn hɜː ʃˈiːðd hˈændz, bˌʌt mˈɜːsi ɪn hɜːɹ ˈaɪz!