text_original: The rest with futile, listless touch? Let them pass our door, The wearied, mirthless joys With their tinsel and their toys. Let laughter rise and sound and disappear; The crowd move on with million voices clear.
text_transcription: THE REST WITH FUTILE LISTLESS TOUCH LET THEM PASS OUR DOOR THE WEARIED MIRTHLESS JOYS WITH THEIR TINSEL AND THEIR TOYS LET LAUGHTER RISE AND SOUND AND DISAPPEAR THE CROWD MOVE ON WITH MILLION VOICES CLEAR
phonemes: ðə ɹˈɛst wɪð fjˈuːɾəl, lˈɪstləs tˈʌtʃ? lˈɛt ðˌɛm pˈæs ˌaʊɚ dˈɔːɹ, ðə wˈɪɹid, mˈɜːθləs dʒˈɔɪz wɪð ðɛɹ tˈɪnsəl ænd ðɛɹ tˈɔɪz. lˈɛt lˈæftɚ ɹˈaɪz ænd sˈaʊnd ænd dˌɪsɐpˈɪɹ; ðə kɹˈaʊd mˈuːv ˌɔn wɪð mˈɪliən vˈɔɪsᵻz klˈɪɹ.