text_original: 'Tis their heart's melodious beat Fills the air with whispers sweet ! These, O child, are songs unsung — Songs unbreathed by human tongue ; These are they that all in vain Mightiest masters wooed amain — Children of their heart and brain That they could not warm to life By their being's utmost strife.
text_transcription: TIS THEIR HEART'S MELODIOUS BEAT FILLS THE AIR WITH WHISPERS SWEET THESE O CHILD ARE SONGS UNSUNG SONGS UNBREATHED BY HUMAN TONGUE THESE ARE THEY THAT ALL IN VAIN MIGHTIEST MASTERS WOOD AMAIN CHILDREN OF THEIR HEART AND BRAIN THAT THEY COULD NOT WARM TO LIFE BY THEIR BEING'S UTMOST STRIFE
phonemes: tˈɪz ðɛɹ hˈɑːɹts mɛlˈoʊdiəs bˈiːt fˈɪlz ðɪ ˈɛɹ wɪð wˈɪspɚz swˈiːt ! ðˈiːz, ˈoʊ tʃˈaɪld, ɑːɹ sˈɔŋz ʌnsˈʌŋ — sˈɔŋz ʌnbɹˈiːðd baɪ hjˈuːmən tˈʌŋ ; ðiːz ɑːɹ ðeɪ ðæt ˈɔːl ɪn vˈeɪn mˈaɪɾiɪst mˈæstɚz wˈuːd ˈæmeɪn — tʃˈɪldɹən ʌv ðɛɹ hˈɑːɹt ænd bɹˈeɪn ðæt ðeɪ kʊd nˌɑːt wˈɔːɹm tə lˈaɪf baɪ ðɛɹ bˌiːɪŋz ˈʌtmoʊst stɹˈaɪf.