text_original: What boots to me your corn and wine, Your busy toil, your vaunted fame, The senate where your speakers shine? Once, when your homes, by war o'erswept, Saw strangers battening on your land, Like any puling fool, I wept!
text_transcription: WHAT BOOTS TO ME YOUR CORN AND WINE YOUR BUSY TOIL YOUR VAUNTED FAME THE SENATE WHERE YOUR SPEAKERS SHINE ONCE WHEN YOUR HOMES BY WAR OVERSWEPT SAW STRANGERS BUTTONING ON YOUR LAND LIKE ANY PEWLING FOOL I WEPT
phonemes: wˌʌt bˈuːts tə mˌiː jʊɹ kˈɔːɹn ænd wˈaɪn, jʊɹ bˈɪzi tˈɔɪl, jʊɹ vˈɔːntᵻd fˈeɪm, ðə sˈɛnət wˌɛɹ jʊɹ spˈiːkɚz ʃˈaɪn? wˈʌns, wˌɛn jʊɹ hˈoʊmz, baɪ wˈɔːɹ ˈɔːɹswɛpt, sˈɔː stɹˈeɪndʒɚz bˈæʔn̩ɪŋ ˌɔn jʊɹ lˈænd, lˈaɪk ˌɛni pjˈuːlɪŋ fˈuːl, aɪ wˈɛpt!