text_original: For days the peaks wore hoods of cloud, The slopes were veiled in chilly rain; We said : It is the Summer's shroud, And with the brooks we moaned aloud, — Will sunshine never come again?
text_transcription: FOR DAYS THE PEAKS WORE HOODS OF CLOUD THE SLOPES WERE VEILED IN CHILLY RAIN WE SAID IT IS THE SUMMER'S SHROUD AND WITH THE BROOKS WE MOANED ALOUD WILL SUNSHINE NEVER COME AGAIN
phonemes: fɔːɹ dˈeɪz ðə pˈiːks wˈɔːɹ hˈʊdz ʌv klˈaʊd, ðə slˈoʊps wɜː vˈeɪld ɪn tʃˈɪli ɹˈeɪn; wiː sˈɛd : ɪɾ ɪz ðə sˈʌmɚz ʃɹˈaʊd, ænd wɪððə bɹˈʊks wiː mˈoʊnd ɐlˈaʊd, — wɪl sˈʌnʃaɪn nˈɛvɚ kˈʌm ɐɡˈɛn?