text_original: Still as a city buried 'neath the sea, Thy courts and temples stand; Idle as forms on wind waved tapestry Of saints and heroes grand, Thy phantasms grope and shiver, Or watch the loose shores crumbling silently Into Time's gnawing river.
text_transcription: STILL AS A CITY BURIED NEATH THE SEA THY COURTS AND TEMPLES STAND IDLE AS FORMS ON WIND WAVED TAPESTRY OF SAINTS AND HEROES GRAND THY PHANTASMS GROPE AND SHIVER OR WATCH THE LOOSE SHORES CRUMBLING SILENTLY INTO TIME'S GNAWING RIVER
phonemes: stˈɪl æz ɐ sˈɪɾi bˈɛɹid nˈiːθ ðə sˈiː, ðˌaɪ kˈɔːɹts ænd tˈɛmpəlz stˈænd; ˈaɪdəl æz fˈɔːɹmz ˌɔn wˈɪnd wˈeɪvd tˈæpᵻstɹi ʌv sˈeɪnts ænd hˈiəɹoʊz ɡɹˈænd, ðˌaɪ fˈæntæzəmz ɡɹˈoʊp ænd ʃˈɪvɚ, ɔːɹ wˈɑːtʃ ðə lˈuːs ʃˈɔːɹz kɹˈʌmblɪŋ sˈaɪləntli ˌɪntʊ tˈaɪmz nˈɔːɪŋ ɹˈɪvɚ.