text_original: For years thrice three, wise Horace said, A poem rare let silence bind; And love may ripen in the shade, Like ours, for nine long seasons laid In crypts and arches of the mind.
text_transcription: FOR YEARS THRICE THREE WISE HORACE SAID A POEM RARE LET SILENCE BIND AND LOVE MAY RIPEN IN THE SHADE LIKE OURS FOR NINE LONG SEASONS LATE IN CRYPTS AND ARCHES OF THE MIND
phonemes: fɔːɹ jˈɪɹz θɹˈaɪs θɹˈiː, wˈaɪz hˈɔːɹəs sˈɛd, ɐ pˈoʊᵻm ɹˈɛɹ lˈɛt sˈaɪləns bˈaɪnd; ænd lˈʌv mˈeɪ ɹˈaɪpən ɪnðə ʃˈeɪd, lˈaɪk aʊɚz, fɔːɹ nˈaɪn lˈɔŋ sˈiːzənz lˈeɪd ɪn kɹˈɪpts ænd ˈɑːɹtʃᵻz ʌvðə mˈaɪnd.