text_original: Every green leaf thrills to its tender heart, In the mild summer radiance of his eye; No fear of storm, or cold, or bitter frost, Shadows the flowerets when their sun is nigh. And all our pleasant haunts of earthly love Are nurseries to those gardens of the air; And his far darting eye, with starry beam, Watching the growing of his treasures there.
text_transcription: EVERY GREEN LEAF THRILLS TO ITS TENDER HEART IN THE MILD SUMMER RADIANCE OF HIS EYE NO FEAR OF STORM OR COLD OR BITTER FROST SHADOWS THE FLOWERS WHEN THEIR SUN IS NIGH AND ALL OUR PLEASANT HAUNTS OF EARTHLY LOVE UNNURSERIES TO THOSE GARDENS OF THE AIR AND HIS FAR DARTING EYE WITH STARRY BEAM WATCHING THE GROWING OF HIS TREASURES THERE
phonemes: ˈɛvɹi ɡɹˈiːn lˈiːf θɹˈɪlz tʊ ɪts tˈɛndɚ hˈɑːɹt, ɪnðə mˈaɪld sˈʌmɚ ɹˈeɪdiəns ʌv hɪz ˈaɪ; nˈoʊ fˈɪɹ ʌv stˈɔːɹm, ɔːɹ kˈoʊld, ɔːɹ bˈɪɾɚ fɹˈɔst, ʃˈædoʊz ðə flˈaʊɚɹəts wɛn ðɛɹ sˈʌn ɪz nˈaɪ. ænd ˈɔːl ˌaʊɚ plˈɛzənt hˈɔːnts ʌv ˈɜːθli lˈʌv ɑːɹ nˈɜːsɚɹiz tə ðoʊz ɡˈɑːɹdənz ʌvðɪ ˈɛɹ; ænd hɪz fˈɑːɹ dˈɑːɹɾɪŋ ˈaɪ, wɪð stˈɑːɹi bˈiːm, wˈɑːtʃɪŋ ðə ɡɹˈoʊɪŋ ʌv hɪz tɹˈɛʒɚz ðˈɛɹ.