text_original: The world is drunk with night, there gather slow From some remoter heaven to tempt my blood The mutable stars processional, and lo ! On all the hills the moonlight is in flood ; But I am wakeful yet.
text_transcription: THE WORLD IS DRUNK WITH NIGHT THERE GATHER SLOW FROM SOME REMOTER HEAVEN TO TEMPT MY BLOOD THE MUTABLE STARS PROCESSIONAL AND LO ON ALL THE HILLS THE MOONLIGHT IS IN FLOOD BUT I AM WAKEFUL YET
phonemes: ðə wˈɜːld ɪz dɹˈʌŋk wɪð nˈaɪt, ðɛɹ ɡˈæðɚ slˈoʊ fɹʌm sˌʌm ɹᵻmˈoʊɾɚ hˈɛvən tə tˈɛmpt maɪ blˈʌd ðə mjˈuːɾəbəl stˈɑːɹz pɹəsˈɛʃənəl, ænd lˈoʊ ! ˌɔn ˈɔːl ðə hˈɪlz ðə mˈuːnlaɪt ɪz ɪn flˈʌd ; bˌʌt aɪɐm wˈeɪkfəl jˈɛt.