text_original: This is the poem of the air, Slowly in silent syllables recorded; This is the secret of despair, Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded, Now whispered and revealed To wood and field.
text_transcription: THIS IS THE POEM OF THE AIR SLOWLY IN SILENT SYLLABLES RECORDED THIS IS THE SECRET OF DESPAIR LONG IN ITS CLOUDY BOSOM HOARDED NOW WHISPERED AND REVEALED TO WOOD AND FIELD
phonemes: ðɪs ɪz ðə pˈoʊᵻm ʌvðɪ ˈɛɹ, slˈoʊli ɪn sˈaɪlənt sˈɪləbəlz ɹᵻkˈɔːɹdᵻd; ðɪs ɪz ðə sˈiːkɹᵻt ʌv dᵻspˈɛɹ, lˈɔŋ ɪn ɪts klˈaʊdi bˈʊzəm hˈɔːɹdᵻd, nˈaʊ wˈɪspɚd ænd ɹᵻvˈiːld tə wˈʊd ænd fˈiːld.