text_original: Fair are the silent foldings of his robes, Falling with saintly calmness to his feet; And when he walks, each floweret to his will With living pulse of sweet accord doth beat.
text_transcription: FAIR ARE THE SILENT FOLDINGS OF HIS ROBES FALLING WITH SAINTLY CALMNESS TO HIS FEET AND WHEN HE WALKS EACH FLOWER TO HIS WILL WITH LIVING PULSE OF SWEET ACCORD DOES BEAT
phonemes: fˈɛɹ ɑːɹ ðə sˈaɪlənt fˈoʊldɪŋz ʌv hɪz ɹˈoʊbz, fˈɔːlɪŋ wɪð sˈeɪntli kˈɑːmnəs tə hɪz fˈiːt; ænd wɛn hiː wˈɔːks, ˈiːtʃ flˈaʊɚɹət tə hɪz wɪl wɪð lˈɪvɪŋ pˈʌls ʌv swˈiːt ɐkˈɔːɹd dʌθ bˈiːt.