text_original: Even as our cloudy fancies take Suddenly shape in some divine expression, Even as the troubled heart doth make In the white countenance confession, The troubled sky reveals The grief it feels.
text_transcription: EVEN AS OUR CLOUDY FANCIES TAKE SUDDENLY SHAPE IN SOME DIVINE EXPRESSION EVEN AS THE TROUBLED HEART DOTH MAKE IN THE WHITE COUNTENANCE CONFESSION THE TROUBLED SKY REVEALS THE GRIEF IT FEELS
phonemes: ˈiːvən æz ˌaʊɚ klˈaʊdi fˈænsiz tˈeɪk sˈʌdənli ʃˈeɪp ɪn sˌʌm dᵻvˈaɪn ɛkspɹˈɛʃən, ˈiːvən æz ðə tɹˈʌbəld hˈɑːɹt dʌθ mˌeɪk ɪnðə wˈaɪt kˈaʊntənəns kənfˈɛʃən, ðə tɹˈʌbəld skˈaɪ ɹᵻvˈiːlz ðə ɡɹˈiːf ɪt fˈiːlz.