text_original: Night hardly would seem to make darker her dream never done, When it could but withhold what a man may behold of the sun. For dreams would perplex, were the days that should vex her but seven, The sight of her vision, made dark with division from heaven.
text_transcription: NIGHT HARDLY WOULD SEEM TO MAKE DARKER HER DREAM NEVER DONE WHEN IT COULD BUT WITHHOLD WHAT A MAN MAY BEHOLD OF THE SUN FOR DREAMS WOULD PERPLEX WERE THE DAYS THAT SHOULD VEX HER BUT SEVEN THE SIGHT OF HER VISION MADE DARK WITH DIVISION FROM HEAVEN
phonemes: nˈaɪt hˈɑːɹdli wʊd sˈiːm tə mˌeɪk dˈɑːɹkɚ hɜː dɹˈiːm nˈɛvɚ dˈʌn, wˌɛn ɪt kʊd bˌʌt wɪðhˈoʊld wʌt ɐ mˈæn mˈeɪ bᵻhˈoʊld ʌvðə sˈʌn. fɔːɹ dɹˈiːmz wʊd pɚplˈɛks, wɜː ðə dˈeɪz ðæt ʃˌʊd vˈɛks hɜː bˌʌt sˈɛvən, ðə sˈaɪt ʌv hɜː vˈɪʒən, mˌeɪd dˈɑːɹk wɪð dᵻvˈɪʒən fɹʌm hˈɛvən.