text_original: In vain your hoofs so fleet, Your manes to the wild winds tossed, A thousand invisible hands and feet, The ranchmen of the frost, The spearmen of night and cold, To the boreal plainsmen kin, Your heaving ranks shall silently fold, And corral and fence ye in.
text_transcription: IN VAIN YOUR HOOFS SO FLEET YOUR MANES TO THE WILD WINDS TOSSED A THOUSAND INVISIBLE HANDS AND FEET THE RANCHMEN OF THE FROST THE SPARE MEN OF NIGHT AND COLD TO THE BOREAL PLAINSMEN KIN YOUR HEAVING RANKS SHALL SILENTLY FOLD AND QUARREL AND FANCY YOU IN
phonemes: ɪn vˈeɪn jʊɹ hˈuːfs sˌoʊ flˈiːt, jʊɹ mˈeɪnz tə ðə wˈaɪld wˈɪndz tˈɔst, ɐ θˈaʊzənd ɪnvˈɪzᵻbəl hˈændz ænd fˈiːt, ðə ɹˈæntʃmɛn ʌvðə fɹˈɔst, ðə spˈɪɹmɛn ʌv nˈaɪt ænd kˈoʊld, tə ðə bˈɔːɹiəl plˈeɪnzmɛn kˈɪn, jʊɹ hˈiːvɪŋ ɹˈæŋks ʃˌæl sˈaɪləntli fˈoʊld, ænd kɚɹˈæl ænd fˈɛns jiː ˈɪn.