text_original: Some moment, nailed on sorrow's cross, May mediate a whole youth's loss, Some windfall joy, we know not whence, Redeem a lifetime's rash expense, And, suddenly wise, the soul may mark, Stripped of their simulated dark, Mountains of gold that pierce the sky, Girdling its valleyed poverty.
text_transcription: SOME MOMENT NAILED ON SORROW'S CROSS MAY MEDIATE A WHOLE YOUTH'S LOSS SOME WINDFALL JOY WE KNOW NOT WHENCE WE DEEM A LIFETIME'S RASH EXPENSE AND SUDDENLY WISE THE SOUL MAY MARK STRIPPED OF THEIR SIMULATED DARK MOUNTAINS OF GOLD THAT PIERCE THE SKY GIRDLING ITS VALET POVERTY
phonemes: sˌʌm mˈoʊmənt, nˈeɪld ˌɔn sˈɑːɹoʊz kɹˈɔs, mˈeɪ mˈiːdɪˌeɪt ɐ hˈoʊl jˈuːθz lˈɔs, sˌʌm wˈɪndfɔːl dʒˈɔɪ, wiː nˈoʊ nˌɑːt wˈɛns, ɹᵻdˈiːm ɐ lˈaɪftaɪmz ɹˈæʃ ɛkspˈɛns, ænd, sˈʌdənli wˈaɪz, ðə sˈoʊl mˈeɪ mˈɑːɹk, stɹˈɪpt ʌv ðɛɹ sˈɪmjʊlˌeɪɾᵻd dˈɑːɹk, mˈaʊntɪnz ʌv ɡˈoʊld ðæt pˈɪɹs ðə skˈaɪ, ɡˈɜːdlɪŋ ɪts vˈælɪd pˈɑːvɚɾi.