text_original: "Blown out and in by summer gales, The stately ships, with crowded sails, And sailors leaning o'er their rails, Before me glide; They come, they go, but nevermore, Spice laden from the Indian shore, I see his swift winged Isidore The waves divide.
text_transcription: BLOWN OUT AND IN BY SUMMER GALES THE STATELY SHIPS WITH CROWDED SAILS AND SAILORS LEANING OVER THEIR RAILS BEFORE ME GLIDE THEY COME THEY GO BUT NEVER MORE SPICE LADEN FROM THE INDIAN SHORE I SEE HIS SWIFT WINGED ISIDOR THE WAVES DIVIDE
phonemes: "blˈoʊn ˈaʊt ænd ɪn baɪ sˈʌmɚ ɡˈeɪlz, ðə stˈeɪtli ʃˈɪps, wɪð kɹˈaʊdᵻd sˈeɪlz, ænd sˈeɪlɚz lˈiːnɪŋ ˈɔːɹ ðɛɹ ɹˈeɪlz, bᵻfˌɔːɹ mˌiː ɡlˈaɪd; ðeɪ kˈʌm, ðeɪ ɡˈoʊ, bˌʌt nˌɛvɚmˈɔːɹ, spˈaɪs lˈeɪdən fɹʌmðɪ ˈɪndiən ʃˈɔːɹ, aɪ sˈiː hɪz swˈɪft wˈɪŋd ˈɪsɪdˌɔːɹ ðə wˈeɪvz dᵻvˈaɪd.