text_original: Brambles wander across the grass, Vines creep over the broken wall, Bindweeds blossom, and here and there Stands a waif of the forest tall. There no columns of gleaming white Mark the dust that is sacred still; Swings the gate on its rusty hinge   All may enter and roam at will.
text_transcription: BRAMBLES WANDER ACROSS THE GRASS VINES CREEP OVER THE BROKEN WALL BIND WEEDS BLOSSOM AND HERE AND THERE STANDS A WAVE OF THE FOREST TALL THERE NO COLUMNS OF GLEAMING WHITE MARK THE DUST THAT IS SACRED STILL SWINGS THE GATE ON ITS RUSTY HINGE ALL MAY ENTER AND ROME AT WILL
phonemes: bɹˈæmbəlz wˈɔndɚɹ əkɹˌɑːs ðə ɡɹˈæs, vˈaɪnz kɹˈiːp ˌoʊvɚ ðə bɹˈoʊkən wˈɔːl, bˈaɪndwiːdz blˈɔsəm, ænd hˈɪɹ ɐnd ðˈɛɹ stˈændz ɐ wˈeɪf ʌvðə fˈɔːɹɪst tˈɔːl. ðɛɹ nˈoʊ kˈɑːlʌmz ʌv ɡlˈiːmɪŋ wˈaɪt mˈɑːɹk ðə dˈʌst ðæt ɪz sˈeɪkɹɪd stˈɪl; swˈɪŋz ðə ɡˈeɪt ˌɔn ɪts ɹˈʌsti hˈɪndʒ ˈɔːl mˈeɪ ˈɛntɚ ænd ɹˈoʊm ɐtwˈɪl.