text_original: alling fast Hush ! tired child, weep nevermore again. THE SONG OF THE SWORD PRELUDE IN the ineffable days when from the summits of morning, Through the extravagant noon, down to the murmurous eve, Lands of the plenteous vine lay in their vernal adorning, Robed in immutable calm, God's everlasting reprieve.
text_transcription: THE SONG OF THE SWORD BY GEORGE CABOT LODGE READ VALIBREVOX DOT ORK BY SONYA THE SONG OF THE SWORD PRELUDE IN THE INEFFABLE DAYS WHEN FROM THE SUMMITS OF MORNING THROUGH THE EXTRAVAGANT NOON DOWN TO THE MURMUROUS EVE LANDS OF THE PLENTEOUS VINE LAY IN THEIR VERNAL ADORNING ROBED IN IMMUTABLE CALM GOD'S EVERLASTING REPRIEVE
phonemes: ˈɔːlɪŋ fˈæst hˈʌʃ ! tˈaɪɚd tʃˈaɪld, wˈiːp nˌɛvɚmˈɔːɹ ɐɡˈɛn. ðə sˈɔŋ ʌvðə sˈɔːɹd pɹˈeɪluːd ɪnðɪ ɪnˈɛfəbəl dˈeɪz wɛn fɹʌmðə sˈʌmɪts ʌv mˈɔːɹnɪŋ, θɹuː ðɪ ɛkstɹˈævəɡənt nˈuːn, dˌaʊn tə ðə mˈɜːmɚɹəs ˈiːv, lˈændz ʌvðə plˈɛntiəs vˈaɪn lˈeɪ ɪn ðɛɹ vˈɜːnəl ɐdˈɔːɹnɪŋ, ɹˈoʊbd ɪn ɪmjˈuːɾəbəl kˈɑːm, ɡˈɑːdz ˌɛvɚlˈæstɪŋ ɹᵻpɹˈiːv.