text_original: And in that sound, it seemed, was bound All life's despair of art; The bitterness of joy that died; The anguish of faith's crucified; And love that broke its heart. The ghost it seemed of all we'd dreamed, Of all we had desired; That  turned a curse, an empty cry   With wailing words went trailing by In hope's dead robes attired.
text_transcription: AND IN THAT SOUND IT SEEMED WAS BOUND ALL LIFE'S DESPAIR OF ART THE BITTERNESS OF JOY THAT DIED THE ANGUISH OF FAITH CRUCIFIED AND LOVE THAT BROKE ITS HEART THE GHOST IT SEEMED OF ALL WE DREAMED OF ALL WE HAD DESIRED THAT TURNED A CURSE AN EMPTY CRY WITH WAILING WORDS WENT TRAILING BY IN HOPE'S DEAD ROBES ATTIRED
phonemes: ænd ɪn ðæt sˈaʊnd, ɪt sˈiːmd, wʌz bˈaʊnd ˈɔːl lˈaɪfz dᵻspˈɛɹ ʌv ˈɑːɹt; ðə bˈɪtɚnəs ʌv dʒˈɔɪ ðæt dˈaɪd; ðɪ ˈæŋɡwɪʃ ʌv fˈeɪθz kɹˈuːsᵻfˌaɪd; ænd lˈʌv ðæt bɹˈoʊk ɪts hˈɑːɹt. ðə ɡˈoʊst ɪt sˈiːmd ʌv ˈɔːl wiːd dɹˈiːmd, ʌv ˈɔːl wiː hæd dɪzˈaɪɚd; ðæt tˈɜːnd ɐ kˈɜːs, ɐn ˈɛmpti kɹˈaɪ wɪð wˈeɪlɪŋ wˈɜːdz wɛnt tɹˈeɪlɪŋ baɪ ɪn hˈoʊpz dˈɛd ɹˈoʊbz ɐtˈaɪɚd.