text_original: My barren gaze can never know what throes Such boons of beauty waken, tho' I rise Each day a tremble with the ruthless hope That light will pierce my useless lids  then grope Till night, blind as the worm within his clod.
text_transcription: MY BARREN GAZE CAN NEVER KNOW WHAT THROES SUCH BOONS OF BEAUTY WAKEN THOUGH I RISE EACH DAY A TREMBLE WITH THE RUTHLESS HOPE THAT LIGHT WILL PIERCE MY USELESS LIDS THEN GROPE TILL NIGHT BLIND AS THE WORM WITHIN HIS CLOD
phonemes: maɪ bˈæɹən ɡˈeɪz kæn nˈɛvɚ nˈoʊ wʌt θɹˈoʊz sˈʌtʃ bˈuːnz ʌv bjˈuːɾi wˈeɪkən, ðˈoʊ aɪ ɹˈaɪz ˈiːtʃ dˈeɪ ɐ tɹˈɛmbəl wɪððə ɹˈuːθləs hˈoʊp ðæt lˈaɪt wɪl pˈɪɹs maɪ jˈuːsləs lˈɪdz ðˈɛn ɡɹˈoʊp tˈɪl nˈaɪt, blˈaɪnd æz ðə wˈɜːm wɪðˌɪn hɪz klˈɑːd.