text_original: The mind not always sees ; but if there shine A bit of fern lace bending over moss, A silky glint that rides a spider line, On a trefoil two shadow spears that cross, Three grasses that toss up their nodding heads, With spring and curve like clustered fountain  threads, Suddenly, through side windows of the eye.
text_transcription: THE MIND NOT ALWAYS SEES BUT IF THERE SHINE A BIT OF FERN LACE BENDING OVER MOSS A SILKY GLINT THAT RIDES A SPIDER LINE ON A TREFOIL TWO SHADOWS SPEARS THAT CROSS THREE GRASSES THAT TOSS UP THEIR NODDING HEADS WITH SPRING AND CURVE LIKE CLUSTERED FOUNTAIN THREADS SUDDENLY THROUGH SIDE WINDOWS OF THE EYE
phonemes: ðə mˈaɪnd nˌɑːt ˈɔːlweɪz sˈiːz ; bˌʌt ɪf ðɛɹ ʃˈaɪn ɐ bˈɪt ʌv fˈɜːn lˈeɪs bˈɛndɪŋ ˌoʊvɚ mˈɔs, ɐ sˈɪlki ɡlˈɪnt ðæt ɹˈaɪdz ɐ spˈaɪdɚ lˈaɪn, ˌɔn ɐ tɹˈɛfɔɪl tˈuː ʃˈædoʊ spˈɪɹz ðæt kɹˈɔs, θɹˈiː ɡɹˈæsᵻz ðæt tˈɔs ˌʌp ðɛɹ nˈɑːdɪŋ hˈɛdz, wɪð spɹˈɪŋ ænd kˈɜːv lˈaɪk klˈʌstɚd fˈaʊntɪn θɹˈɛdz, sˈʌdənli, θɹuː sˈaɪd wˈɪndoʊz ʌvðɪ ˈaɪ.