text_original: 'Tis a poet who was sent For a bad world's punishment, By compelling it to see Golden glimpses of To Be, By compelling it to hear Songs that prove the angels near; Who was sent to be the tongue Of the weak and spirit wrung, Whence the fiery winged Despair In men's shrinking eyes might flare.
text_transcription: THIS A POET WHO WAS SENT FOR A BAD WORLD'S PUNISHMENT BY COMPELLING IT TO SEE GOLDEN GLIMPSES OF TO BE BY COMPELLING IT TO HEAR SONGS THAT PROVE THE ANGELS NEAR WHO WERE SENT TO BE THE TONGUE OF THE WEAK AND SPIRIT WRONG WHENCE THE FIERY WINGED DESPAIR IN MAN'S SHRINKING EYES MIGHT FLARE
phonemes: tˈɪz ɐ pˈoʊɪt hˌuː wʌz sˈɛnt fɚɹə bˈæd wˈɜːldz pˈʌnɪʃmənt, baɪ kəmpˈɛlɪŋ ɪt tə sˈiː ɡˈoʊldən ɡlˈɪmpsᵻz ʌv tə bˈiː, baɪ kəmpˈɛlɪŋ ɪt tə hˈɪɹ sˈɔŋz ðæt pɹˈuːv ðɪ ˈeɪndʒəlz nˈɪɹ; hˌuː wʌz sˈɛnt təbi ðə tˈʌŋ ʌvðə wˈiːk ænd spˈɪɹɪt ɹˈʌŋ, wˈɛns ðə fˈaɪɚɹi wˈɪŋd dᵻspˈɛɹ ɪn mˈɛnz ʃɹˈɪŋkɪŋ ˈaɪz mˌaɪt flˈɛɹ.