text_original: What objects are the fountains Of thy happy strain? What fields, or waves, or mountains? What shapes of sky or plain? What love of thine own kind? What ignorance of pain? 300 POEMS OF XATURE. With thy clear, keen joyance Languor cannot be : Shadow of annoyance Never come near thee : Thou lovest ; but ne'er knew love's sad satiety.
text_transcription: WHAT OBJECTS ARE THE FOUNTAINS OF THY HAPPY STRAIN WHAT FIELDS OR WAVES OR MOUNTAINS WHAT SHAPES OF SKY OR PLAIN WHAT LOVE OF THINE OWN WHAT IGNORANCE OF PAIN WITH THY CLEAR KEEN JOYANCE LANGUOR CANNOT BE SHADOW OF ANNOYANCE NEVER COME NEAR THEE THOU LOVEST BUT NEVER KNEW LOVE'S SAD SATIETY
phonemes: wˌʌt ˈɑːbdʒɛkts ɑːɹ ðə fˈaʊntɪnz ʌv ðˌaɪ hˈæpi stɹˈeɪn? wˌʌt fˈiːldz, ɔːɹ wˈeɪvz, ɔːɹ mˈaʊntɪnz? wˌʌt ʃˈeɪps ʌv skˈaɪ ɔːɹ plˈeɪn? wˌʌt lˈʌv ʌv ðaɪn ˈoʊn kˈaɪnd? wˌʌt ˈɪɡnɚɹəns ʌv pˈeɪn? θɹˈiːhˈʌndɹɪd pˈoʊᵻmz ʌv zˈætʃɚ. wɪð ðˌaɪ klˈɪɹ, kˈiːn dʒˈɔɪəns lˈæŋɡjuːɚ kænˈɑːt bˈiː : ʃˈædoʊ ʌv ɐnˈɔɪəns nˈɛvɚ kˈʌm nˌɪɹ ðˈiː : ðˈaʊ lˈʌvɛst ; bˌʌt nˈɛɹ nˈuː lˈʌvz sˈæd sætˈaɪəɾi.