text_original: "Heedless  men pass me in their search for life, Hunting for altars to their souls' fine fires, Crying the sun or joy of toil and strife And know not that 'tis I  their heart desires. They dream not that the sheen on peacock's breast, The haze and perfume of a Summer's day, The silver stealing o'er the twilight West Are joys more rich than all the world's display."
text_transcription: HEEDLESS MEN PASS ME IN THEIR SEARCH FOR LIFE HUNTING FOR ALTARS TO THEIR SOULS FINE FIRES CRYING THE SUN OR JOY OF TOIL AND STRIFE AND KNOW NOT THAT THIS EYE THEIR HEART DESIRES THEY DREAM NOT THAT THE SHEEN ON PEACOCK'S BREAST THE HAZE AND PERFUME OF A SUMMER'S DAY THE SILVER STEALING OVER THE TWILIGHT WEST ARE JOYS MORE RICH THAN ALL THE WORLD'S DISPLAY
phonemes: "hˈiːdləs mˈɛn pˈæs mˌiː ɪn ðɛɹ sˈɜːtʃ fɔːɹ lˈaɪf, hˈʌntɪŋ fɔːɹ ˈɔltɚz tə ðɛɹ sˈoʊlz fˈaɪn fˈaɪɚz, kɹˈaɪɪŋ ðə sˈʌn ɔːɹ dʒˈɔɪ ʌv tˈɔɪl ænd stɹˈaɪf ænd nˈoʊ nˌɑːt ðæt tˈɪz aɪ ðɛɹ hˈɑːɹt dɪzˈaɪɚz. ðeɪ dɹˈiːm nˌɑːt ðætðə ʃˈiːn ˌɔn pˈiːkɑːks bɹˈɛst, ðə hˈeɪz ænd pˈɜːfjuːm əvə sˈʌmɚz dˈeɪ, ðə sˈɪlvɚ stˈiːlɪŋ ˈɔːɹ ðə twˈaɪlaɪt wˈɛst ɑːɹ dʒˈɔɪz mˈɔːɹ ɹˈɪtʃ ðɐn ˈɔːl ðə wˈɜːldz dɪsplˈeɪ."