text_original: 347 He pilfers from every port of the wind, From April to golden autumn; But the thieving ways of his mortal days Are those his mother taught him.
text_transcription: HE PILFERS FROM EVERY PORT OF THE WIND FROM APRIL TO GOLDEN AUTUMN BUT THE THIEVING WAYS OF HIS MORTAL DAYS ARE THOSE HIS MOTHER TAUGHT HIM
phonemes: θɹˈiːhˈʌndɹɪd fˈɔːɹɾi sˈɛvən hiː pˈɪlfɚz fɹʌm ˈɛvɹi pˈɔːɹt ʌvðə wˈɪnd, fɹʌm ˈeɪpɹəl tə ɡˈoʊldən ˈɔːɾʌm; bˌʌt ðə θˈiːvɪŋ wˈeɪz ʌv hɪz mˈɔːɹɾəl dˈeɪz ɑːɹ ðoʊz hɪz mˈʌðɚ tˈɔːt hˌɪm.