text_original: Its head reached heaven, while its lowest bough Swept the green turf, and all between was row On row of crested waves — a sleeping sea — Or heaving billows tossed tumultuously, When the fierce winds that smote the mountain's brow Lashed it to sudden passion.
text_transcription: ITS HEAD REACHED HEAVEN WHILE ITS LOWEST BOUGH SWEPT THE GREEN TURF AND ALL BETWEEN WAS ROW ON ROW OF CRESTED WAVES A SLEEPING SEA OR HEAVING BILLOWS TOSSED TUMULTUOUSLY WHEN THE FIERCE WINDS THAT SMOTE THE MOUNTAIN'S BROW LASHED IT TO SUDDEN PASSION
phonemes: ɪts hˈɛd ɹˈiːtʃt hˈɛvən, wˌaɪl ɪts lˈoʊɪst bˈaʊ swˈɛpt ðə ɡɹˈiːn tˈɜːf, ænd ˈɔːl bᵻtwˌiːn wʌz ɹˈoʊ ˌɔn ɹˈoʊ ʌv kɹˈɛstᵻd wˈeɪvz — ɐ slˈiːpɪŋ sˈiː — ɔːɹ hˈiːvɪŋ bˈɪloʊz tˈɔst tuːmˈʌltʃuːəsli, wˌɛn ðə fˈɪɹs wˈɪndz ðæt smˈoʊt ðə mˈaʊntɪnz bɹˈaʊ lˈæʃt ɪt tə sˈʌdən pˈæʃən.