text_original: 69 LOVE'S MORTALITY But swift upon my tired ears there fell Rumour of moon drunk, star lit Philomel, On magic copses flinging Her song too amorous sweet for human singing, And praising ever to her leafy sky Our glad mortality.
text_transcription: S BUT SWIFT UPON MY TIRED EARS THERE FELL RUMOUR OF MOON DRUNK STARLIT PHILOMEL ON MAGIC COPSES FLINGING HER SONG TOO AMOROUS SWEET FOR HUMAN SINGING AND PRAISING EVER TO HER LEAFY SKY OUR GLAD MORTALITY
phonemes: sˈɪksti nˈaɪn lˈʌvz mɔːɹtˈælᵻɾi bˌʌt swˈɪft əpˌɑːn maɪ tˈaɪɚd ˈɪɹz ðɛɹ fˈɛl ɹˈuːmɚɹ ʌv mˈuːn dɹˈʌŋk, stˈɑːɹ lˈɪt fˈɪləməl, ˌɔn mˈædʒɪk kˈɑːpsᵻz flˈɪŋɪŋ hɜː sˈɔŋ tˈuː ˈæmɚɹəs swˈiːt fɔːɹ hjˈuːmən sˈɪŋɪŋ, ænd pɹˈeɪzɪŋ ˈɛvɚ tə hɜː lˈiːfi skˈaɪ ˌaʊɚ ɡlˈæd mɔːɹtˈælᵻɾi.