text_original: The west wind blowing o'er branch and flower Out of the wold, Steals through the honeysuckle bower And bears away on its airy wings Odors that breath of paradise; Dim are the poppies' splendid dyes, But many a pallid primrose swings Its lamp of gold.
text_transcription: THE WEST WIND BLOWING O'ER BRANCH AND FLOWER OUT OF THE WOLD STEALS THROUGH THE HONEYSUCKLE BOWER AND BEARS AWAY ON ITS AIRY WINGS ODORS THE BREATH OF PARADISE DIM ARE THE POPPY'S SPLENDID DYES BUT MANY A PALLID PRIMROSE SWINGS ITS LAMP OF GOLD
phonemes: ðə wˈɛst wˈɪnd blˈoʊɪŋ ˈɔːɹ bɹˈæntʃ ænd flˈaʊɚɹ ˌaʊɾəv ðə wˈoʊld, stˈiːlz θɹuː ðə hˈʌnɪsˌʌkəl bˈaʊɚ ænd bˈɛɹz ɐwˈeɪ ˌɔn ɪts ˈɛɹi wˈɪŋz ˈoʊdɚz ðæt bɹˈɛθ ʌv pˈæɹədˌaɪs; dˈɪm ɑːɹ ðə pˈɑːpɪz splˈɛndɪd dˈaɪz, bˌʌt mˈɛni ɐ pˈælɪd pɹˈɪmɹoʊz swˈɪŋz ɪts lˈæmp ʌv ɡˈoʊld.