text_original: * * * * * The shaft, a poisoned throat whose breath was death, Like hell itself grown sick of sin, Hurled up the men; haggard and terrible; Leaping upon us through the din That all our voices made; and back we shrank From them as from the starting dead; Recoiling, shrieked, but knew not why we shrieked; And cried, but knew not what we said. And still that awful mouth did toss them up: "The last is safe! The last is sound!"
text_transcription: THE SHAFT A POISONED THROAT WHOSE BREATH WAS DEATH LIKE HELL ITSELF GROWN SICK OF SIN HURLED UP THE MAN HAGGARD AND TERRIBLE LEAPING UPON US THROUGH THE DIN THAT ALL OUR VOICES MADE AND BACK WE SHRANK FROM THEM AS FROM THE STARTING DEAD RECOILING SHRIEKED BUT KNEW NOT WHY WE SHRIEKED AND CRIED BUT KNEW NOT WHAT WE SAID AND STILL THAT AWFUL MOUTH DID TOSS THEM UP THE LAST IS SAFE THE LAST IS SOUND
phonemes: ˈæstɚɹˌɪsk ˈæstɚɹˌɪsk ˈæstɚɹˌɪsk ðə ʃˈæft, ɐ pˈɔɪzənd θɹˈoʊt hˌuːz bɹˈɛθ wʌz dˈɛθ, lˈaɪk hˈɛl ɪtsˈɛlf ɡɹˈoʊn sˈɪk ʌv sˈɪn, hˈɜːld ˌʌp ðə mˈɛn; hˈæɡɚd ænd tˈɛɹᵻbəl; lˈiːpɪŋ əpˌɑːn ˌʌs θɹuː ðə dˈɪn ðæt ˈɔːl ˌaʊɚ vˈɔɪsᵻz mˈeɪd; ænd bˈæk wiː ʃɹˈæŋk fɹʌm ðˌɛm æz fɹʌmðə stˈɑːɹɾɪŋ dˈɛd; ɹᵻkˈɔɪlɪŋ, ʃɹˈiːkt, bˌʌt nˈuː nˌɑːt wˌaɪ wiː ʃɹˈiːkt; ænd kɹˈaɪd, bˌʌt nˈuː nˌɑːt wʌt wiː sˈɛd. ænd stˈɪl ðæt ˈɔːfəl mˈaʊθ dˈɪd tˈɔs ðˌɛm ˈʌp: "ðə lˈæst ɪz sˈeɪf! ðə lˈæst ɪz sˈaʊnd!"