text_original: 56 POEMS OF NATURE. The faint old man shall lean his silver head To feel thee; thou shalt kiss the child asleep, And dry the moistened curls that overspread His temples, while his breathing grows more deep : And they who stand about the sick man's bed Shall joy to listen to thy distant sweep, And softly part his curtains to allow Thy visit, grateful to his burning brow.
text_transcription: N THE FAINT OLD MAN SHALL LEAN HIS SILVER HEAD TO FEEL THEE THOU SHALT KISS THE CHILD ASLEEP AND DRY THE MOISTEN CURLS THAT OVERSPREAD HIS TEMPLES WHILE HIS BREATHING GROWS MORE DEEP AND THEY WHO STAND ABOUT THE SICK MAN'S BED SHALL JOY TO LISTEN TO THY DISTANT SWEEP AND SOFTLY PART HIS CURTAINS TO ALLOW THY VISIT GRATEFUL TO HIS BURNING BROW
phonemes: fˈɪfti sˈɪks pˈoʊᵻmz ʌv nˈeɪtʃɚ. ðə fˈeɪnt ˈoʊld mˈæn ʃˌæl lˈiːn hɪz sˈɪlvɚ hˈɛd tə fˈiːl ðˈiː; ðˈaʊ ʃˌælt kˈɪs ðə tʃˈaɪld ɐslˈiːp, ænd dɹˈaɪ ðə mˈɔɪsənd kˈɜːlz ðæt ˌoʊvɚspɹˈɛd hɪz tˈɛmpəlz, wˌaɪl hɪz bɹˈiːðɪŋ ɡɹˈoʊz mˈɔːɹ dˈiːp : ænd ðeɪ hˌuː stˈænd ɐbˌaʊt ðə sˈɪk mˈænz bˈɛd ʃˌæl dʒˈɔɪ tə lˈɪsən tə ðˌaɪ dˈɪstənt swˈiːp, ænd sˈɔftli pˈɑːɹt hɪz kˈɜːtənz tʊ ɐlˈaʊ ðˌaɪ vˈɪzɪt, ɡɹˈeɪtfəl tə hɪz bˈɜːnɪŋ bɹˈaʊ.