text_original: So in our dreams some glimpse appears, Though soon it fades again, How other lands or times or spheres Might make us other men ; How half our being lies in trance, Nor joy nor sorrow brings, Unless the hand of circumstance Can touch the latent strings.
text_transcription: SO IN OUR DREAMS SOME GLIMPSE APPEARS THOUGH SOON IT FADES AGAIN HOW OTHER LANDS OR TIMES OR SPHERES MIGHT MAKE US OTHER MEN HOW HALF OUR BEING LIES IN TRANCE NOR JOY NOR SORROW BRINGS UNLESS THE HAND OF CIRCUMSTANCE CAN TOUCH THE LATENT STRINGS
phonemes: sˌoʊ ɪn ˌaʊɚ dɹˈiːmz sˌʌm ɡlˈɪmps ɐpˈɪɹz, ðˌoʊ sˈuːn ɪt fˈeɪdz ɐɡˈɛn, hˌaʊ ˈʌðɚ lˈændz ɔːɹ tˈaɪmz ɔːɹ sfˈɪɹz mˌaɪt mˌeɪk ˌʌs ˈʌðɚ mˈɛn ; hˌaʊ hˈæf ˌaʊɚ bˌiːɪŋ lˈaɪz ɪn tɹˈæns, nˈɔːɹ dʒˈɔɪ nˈɔːɹ sˈɑːɹoʊ bɹˈɪŋz, ʌnlˈɛs ðə hˈænd ʌv sˈɜːkəmstˌæns kæn tˈʌtʃ ðə lˈeɪtənt stɹˈɪŋz.