text_original: THE vines have grown so thick and twined so strong, With clinging hold, about the bell that swings In the old tower, that now it never rings. No one has heard its voice for seasons long.
text_transcription: THE VINES HAVE GROWN SO THICK AND TWINES SO STRONG WITH CLINGING HOLD ABOUT THE BELL THAT SWINGS IN THE OLD TOWER THAT NOW IT NEVER RINGS NO ONE HAS HEARD ITS VOICE FOR SEASONS LONG
phonemes: ðə vˈaɪnz hæv ɡɹˈoʊn sˌoʊ θˈɪk ænd twˈaɪnd sˌoʊ stɹˈɔŋ, wɪð klˈɪŋɪŋ hˈoʊld, ɐbˌaʊt ðə bˈɛl ðæt swˈɪŋz ɪnðɪ ˈoʊld tˈaʊɚ, ðæt nˈaʊ ɪt nˈɛvɚ ɹˈɪŋz. nˈoʊwˈʌn hɐz hˈɜːd ɪts vˈɔɪs fɔːɹ sˈiːzənz lˈɔŋ.