text_original: And all are young in those reverberant bands ; None marshals them, no mellow voice commands ; They whirl and eddy as the shifting sands. There, there is ruin, and no ivy clings ; There pass the mourners for untimely things. There breaks the stricken cry of crownless kings.
text_transcription: AND ALL ARE YOUNG IN THOSE REVERBERANT BANDS NONE MARSHALS THEM NO MELLOW VOICE COMMANDS THEY WHIRL AND EDDY AS THE SHIFTING SANDS THERE THERE IS RUIN AND NO IVY CLINGS THERE PASS THE MOURNERS FOR UNTIMELY THINGS THERE BREAKS THE STRICKEN CRY OF CROWNLESS KINGS
phonemes: ænd ˈɔːl ɑːɹ jˈʌŋ ɪn ðoʊz ɹᵻvˈɜːbɚɹənt bˈændz ; nˈʌn mˈɑːɹʃəlz ðˌɛm, nˈoʊ mˈɛloʊ vˈɔɪs kəmˈændz ; ðeɪ wˈɜːl ænd ˈɛdi æz ðə ʃˈɪftɪŋ sˈændz. ðˈɛɹ, ðɛɹ ɪz ɹˈuːɪn, ænd nˈoʊ ˈaɪvi klˈɪŋz ; ðɛɹ pˈæs ðə mˈɔːɹnɚz fɔːɹ ʌntˈaɪmli θˈɪŋz. ðɛɹ bɹˈeɪks ðə stɹˈɪkən kɹˈaɪ ʌv kɹˈaʊnləs kˈɪŋz.