text_original: Lo ! in the vale of years beneath A grisly troop are seen. The painful family of death, More hideous than their queen; This racks the joints, this fires the veins, That every laboring sinew strains, Those in the deeper vitals rage: Lo! poverty, to till the band, That numbs the soul with icy hand, And slow consuming age.
text_transcription: LO IN THE VALE OF YEARS BENEATH A GRISLY TROOP ARE SEEN THE PAINFUL FAMILY OF DEATH MORE HIDEOUS THAN THEIR QUEEN THIS REXTER JOINS THIS FIRES THE VEINS THAT EVERY LAB'RING SINEW STRAINS THOSE IN THE DEEPER VITALS RAGE BLOW POVERTY TO FILL THE BAND THAT NUMBS THE SOUL WITH ICY HAND AND SLOW CONSUMING AGE
phonemes: lˈoʊ ! ɪnðə vˈeɪl ʌv jˈɪɹz bᵻnˌiːθ ɐ ɡɹˈɪsli tɹˈuːp ɑːɹ sˈiːn. ðə pˈeɪnfəl fˈæmɪli ʌv dˈɛθ, mˈɔːɹ hˈɪdiəs ðɐn ðɛɹ kwˈiːn; ðɪs ɹˈæks ðə dʒˈɔɪnts, ðɪs fˈaɪɚz ðə vˈeɪnz, ðæt ˈɛvɹi lˈeɪbɚɹɪŋ sˈɪnjuː stɹˈeɪnz, ðoʊz ɪnðə dˈiːpɚ vˈaɪɾəlz ɹˈeɪdʒ: lˈoʊ! pˈɑːvɚɾi, tə tˈɪl ðə bˈænd, ðæt nˈʌmz ðə sˈoʊl wɪð ˈaɪsi hˈænd, ænd slˈoʊ kənsˈuːmɪŋ ˈeɪdʒ.