text_original: evermore my dreams Troubled by thy grave beauty shall be born; Thy crumbling loveliness and ivy streams Shall speak to me for ever, from this morn; The wind wild daws about thy arches drifting, Clouds sweeping o'er thy ruin to the sea, Gray Tintern, all the hills about thee, lifting Their misty waving woodland verdancy!
text_transcription: EVERMORE MY DREAMS TROUBLED BY THY GRAVE BEAUTY SHALL BE BORNE THY CRUMBLING LOVELINESS AND IVY STREAMS SHALL SPEAK TO ME FOREVER FROM THIS MORN THE WIND WILD DAWS ABOUT THY ARCH IS DRIFTING CLOUDS SWEEPING OVER THY RUIN TO THE SEA GRAY TINTON ALL THE HILLS ABOUT THEE LIFTING THEIR MISTY WAVING WOODLAND VERDENCY
phonemes: ˌɛvɚmˈɔːɹ maɪ dɹˈiːmz tɹˈʌbəld baɪ ðˌaɪ ɡɹˈeɪv bjˈuːɾi ʃˌæl biː bˈɔːɹn; ðˌaɪ kɹˈʌmblɪŋ lˈʌvlinəs ænd ˈaɪvi stɹˈiːmz ʃˌæl spˈiːk tə mˌiː fɔːɹ ˈɛvɚ, fɹʌm ðɪs mˈɔːɹn; ðə wˈɪnd wˈaɪld dˈɔːz ɐbˌaʊt ðˌaɪ ˈɑːɹtʃᵻz dɹˈɪftɪŋ, klˈaʊdz swˈiːpɪŋ ˈɔːɹ ðˌaɪ ɹˈuːɪn tə ðə sˈiː, ɡɹˈeɪ tˈɪntɚn, ˈɔːl ðə hˈɪlz ɐbˌaʊt ðˈiː, lˈɪftɪŋ ðɛɹ mˈɪsti wˈeɪvɪŋ wˈʊdlənd vˈɜːdənsi!