text_original: And so he smiled, grown softer now, and tired Of too much empire, and it seemed a joy Fondly to stroke and pet the curly head, The smooth round limbs so strangely like the dead, To kiss the white lips of his marble boy And call by name his little heart's desired.
text_transcription: AND SO HE SMILED GROWN SOFTER NOW AND TIRED OF TOO MUCH EMPIRE AND IT SEEMED A JOY FONDLY TO STROKE AND PET THE CURLY HEAD THE SMOOTH ROUND LIMBS SO STRANGELY LIKE THE DEAD TO KISS THE WHITE LIPS OF HIS MARBLE BOY AND CALL BY NAME HIS LITTLE HEART'S DESIRED
phonemes: ænd sˌoʊ hiː smˈaɪld, ɡɹˈoʊn sˈɔftɚ nˈaʊ, ænd tˈaɪɚd ʌv tˈuː mʌtʃ ˈɛmpaɪɚ, ænd ɪt sˈiːmd ɐ dʒˈɔɪ fˈɑːndli tə stɹˈoʊk ænd pˈɛt ðə kˈɜːli hˈɛd, ðə smˈuːð ɹˈaʊnd lˈɪmz sˌoʊ stɹˈeɪndʒli lˈaɪk ðə dˈɛd, tə kˈɪs ðə wˈaɪt lˈɪps ʌv hɪz mˈɑːɹbəl bˈɔɪ ænd kˈɔːl baɪ nˈeɪm hɪz lˈɪɾəl hˈɑːɹts dɪzˈaɪɚd.