text_original: Mourn not for the owl, nor his gloomy plight! The owl hath his share of good: If a prisoner he be in the broad daylight, He is lord in the dark greenwood! Nor lonely the bird, nor his ghastly mate, They are each unto each a pride; Thrice fonder, perhaps, since a strange, dark fate Hath rent them from all beside!
text_transcription: MOURN NOT FOR THE OWL NOR HIS GLOOMY PLIGHT THE OWL HATH HIS SHARE OF GOOD IF A PRISONER HE BE IN THE BROAD DAYLIGHT HE IS LORD IN THE DARK GREEN WOOD NOR LONELY THE BIRD NOR HIS GHASTLY MATE THEY ARE EACH UNTO EACH A PRIDE THRICE FONDER PERHAPS SINCE A STRANGE DARK FATE HATH RENT THEM FROM ALL BESIDE
phonemes: mˈɔːɹn nˌɑːt fɚðɪ ˈaʊl, nˈɔːɹ hɪz ɡlˈuːmi plˈaɪt! ðɪ ˈaʊl hæθ hɪz ʃˈɛɹ ʌv ɡˈʊd: ɪf ɐ pɹˈɪzənɚ hiː biː ɪnðə bɹˈɔːd dˈeɪlaɪt, hiː ɪz lˈɔːɹd ɪnðə dˈɑːɹk ɡɹˈiːnwʊd! nˈɔːɹ lˈoʊnli ðə bˈɜːd, nˈɔːɹ hɪz ɡˈæstli mˈeɪt, ðeɪ ɑːɹ ˈiːtʃ ˌʌntʊ ˈiːtʃ ɐ pɹˈaɪd; θɹˈaɪs fˈɑːndɚ, pɚhˈæps, sˈɪns ɐ stɹˈeɪndʒ, dˈɑːɹk fˈeɪt hæθ ɹˈɛnt ðˌɛm fɹʌm ˈɔːl bᵻsˈaɪd!