text_original: The primrose and its mates have flown, The thrush's ringing note hath died; But glancing eye and glowing tone Fall on her from her god, her guide. She knows not, asks not, what the goal, She only feels she moves towards bliss, And yields her pure unquestioning soul To touch and fondling kiss.
text_transcription: THE PRIMROSE AND ITS MATES HAVE FLOWN THE THRUSH'S RINGING NOTE HATH DIED BUT GLANCING EYE AND GLOWING TONE FALL ON HER FROM HER GOD HER GUIDE SHE KNOWS NOT ASKS NOT WHAT THE GOAL SHE ONLY FEELS SHE MOVES TOWARDS BLISS AND YIELDS HER PURE UNQUESTIONING SOUL TO TOUCH AND FONDLING KISS
phonemes: ðə pɹˈɪmɹoʊz ænd ɪts mˈeɪts hæv flˈoʊn, ðə θɹˈʌʃᵻz ɹˈɪŋɪŋ nˈoʊt hæθ dˈaɪd; bˌʌt ɡlˈænsɪŋ ˈaɪ ænd ɡlˈoʊɪŋ tˈoʊn fˈɔːl ˌɔn hɜː fɹʌm hɜː ɡˈɑːd, hɜː ɡˈaɪd. ʃiː nˈoʊz nˈɑːt, ˈæsks nˈɑːt, wˌʌt ðə ɡˈoʊl, ʃiː ˈoʊnli fˈiːlz ʃiː mˈuːvz təwˈɔːɹdz blˈɪs, ænd jˈiːldz hɜː pjˈʊɹ ʌŋkwˈɛstʃənɪŋ sˈoʊl tə tˈʌtʃ ænd fˈɑːndlɪŋ kˈɪs.