text_original: No spot by man so long untenanted. But the pale moon, slow marching up the sky, Sees over some lone grave the shadows creep ! O Earth ! art thou not weary of thy dead
text_transcription: NO SPOT BY MAN SO LONG UNTENANTED BUT THE PALE MOON SLOW MARCHING UP THE SKY SEES OVER SOME LONE GRAVE THE SHADOWS CREEP O EARTH ART THOU NOT WEARY OF THY DEAD
phonemes: nˈoʊ spˈɑːt baɪ mˈæn sˌoʊ lˈɔŋ ʌntˈɛnəntᵻd. bˌʌt ðə pˈeɪl mˈuːn, slˈoʊ mˈɑːɹtʃɪŋ ˌʌp ðə skˈaɪ, sˈiːz ˌoʊvɚ sˌʌm lˈoʊn ɡɹˈeɪv ðə ʃˈædoʊz kɹˈiːp ! ˈoʊ ˈɜːθ ! ˈɑːɹt ðˈaʊ nˌɑːt wˈɪɹi ʌv ðˌaɪ dˈɛd