text_original: On ! on ! the storm of wings Bears far the fiery fear, Till scarce the breeze now brings Dim murmurings to the ear ; Like locusts' humming hail, Or thrash of tiny flail Plied by the pattering hail On some old roof tree near.
text_transcription: ON ON THE STORM OF WINGS BEARS FAR THE FIERY FEAR TILL SCARCE THE BREEZE NOW BRINGS DIM MURMURINGS TO THE EAR LIKE LOCUSTS HUMMING HAIL OR THRESH OF TINY FLAIL PLIED BY THE PATTERING HAIL ON SOME OLD ROOF TREE NEAR
phonemes: ˈɔn ! ˈɔn ! ðə stˈɔːɹm ʌv wˈɪŋz bˈɛɹz fˈɑːɹ ðə fˈaɪɚɹi fˈɪɹ, tˈɪl skˈɛɹs ðə bɹˈiːz nˈaʊ bɹˈɪŋz dˈɪm mˈɜːmɚɹɪŋz tə ðɪ ˈɪɹ ; lˈaɪk lˈoʊkʌsts hˈʌmɪŋ hˈeɪl, ɔːɹ θɹˈæʃ ʌv tˈaɪni flˈeɪl plˈaɪd baɪ ðə pˈæɾɚɹɪŋ hˈeɪl ˌɔn sˌʌm ˈoʊld ɹˈuːf tɹˈiː nˈɪɹ.