text_original: Sweet here to watch the peasant people pray, While through the crimson shrouded window falls Low light of even, and the golden walls Grow dim and dreamful at the end of day, Till from these columns fades their marble sheen, And lines grow soft and mystical,  these wraiths That watch the service of the changing faiths, To Mary mother from the Cyprian queen.
text_transcription: SWEET HERE TO WATCH THE PEASANT PEOPLE PRAY WHILE THROUGH THE CRIMSON SHROUDED WINDOW FALLS LOW LIGHT OF EVEN AND THE GOLDENLLS GROW DIM AND DREAMFUL AT THE END OF DAY TILL FROM THESE COLUMNS FADES THEIR MARBLE SHEEN AND LINES GROW SOFT AND MYSTICAL THESE RAYS THAT WATCH THE SERVICE OF THE CHANGING FACE TO MARRY MOTHER FROM THE SUPREME QUEEN
phonemes: swˈiːt hˈɪɹ tə wˈɑːtʃ ðə pˈɛzənt pˈiːpəl pɹˈeɪ, wˌaɪl θɹuː ðə kɹˈɪmsən ʃɹˈaʊdᵻd wˈɪndoʊ fˈɔːlz lˈoʊ lˈaɪt ʌv ˈiːvən, ænd ðə ɡˈoʊldən wˈɔːlz ɡɹˈoʊ dˈɪm ænd dɹˈiːmfəl æt ðɪ ˈɛnd ʌv dˈeɪ, tˈɪl fɹʌm ðiːz kˈɑːlʌmz fˈeɪdz ðɛɹ mˈɑːɹbəl ʃˈiːn, ænd lˈaɪnz ɡɹˈoʊ sˈɔft ænd mˈɪstɪkəl,  ðiːz ɹˈeɪθs ðæt wˈɑːtʃ ðə sˈɜːvɪs ʌvðə tʃˈeɪndʒɪŋ fˈeɪθs, tə mˈɛɹi mˈʌðɚ fɹʌmðə sˈɪpɹiən kwˈiːn.