text_original: Spanned with its roof of glass, And columned with malachite, The windows are all of chrysoprase, Like the winter sky at night. But never a star looks through, As the days and the seasons pass, And never a steed looks up at the blue, Cropping the lush sea grass.
text_transcription: SPENT WITH ITS ROOF OF GLASS AND COLUMNED WITH MELACHITE THE WINDOWS ARE ALL OF CRYSTAL PRAISE LIKE THE WIND DOES SKY AT NIGHT BUT NEVER A STAR LOOKS THROUGH AS THE DAYS AND THE SEASONS PASS AND NEVER A STEED LOOKS UP AT THE BLUE CROPPING THE LUSH SEA GRASS
phonemes: spˈænd wɪð ɪts ɹˈuːf ʌv ɡlˈæs, ænd kˈɑːlʌmd wɪð mˈælɐtʃˌaɪt, ðə wˈɪndoʊz ɑːɹ ˈɔːl ʌv kɹˈɪsəpɹˌeɪz, lˈaɪk ðə wˈɪntɚ skˈaɪ æt nˈaɪt. bˌʌt nˈɛvɚɹ ɐ stˈɑːɹ lˈʊks θɹˈuː, æz ðə dˈeɪz ænd ðə sˈiːzənz pˈæs, ænd nˈɛvɚɹ ɐ stˈiːd lˈʊks ˌʌp æt ðə blˈuː, kɹˈɑːpɪŋ ðə lˈʌʃ sˈiː ɡɹˈæs.