text_original: Ah ! the crowds that for ever are flowing — They neither laugh nor weep — I see them coming and going. Like things that move in sleep: Gray sires and burdened brothers. The old. the young, the fair. SAPPHICS 217 Wan cheeks of pallid mothers, And the girls with golden hair.
text_transcription: AH THE CROWDS THAT FOR EVER ARE FLOWING THEY NEITHER LAUGH NOR WEEP I SEE THEM COMING AND GOING LIKE THINGS THAT MOVE IN SLEEP GRAY SIRES AND BURDENED BROTHERS THE OLD THE YOUNG THE FAIR WARN CHEEKS OF PALLID MOTHERS AND THE GIRLS WITH GOLDEN HAIR
phonemes: ˈɑː ! ðə kɹˈaʊdz ðæt fɔːɹ ˈɛvɚɹ ɑːɹ flˈoʊɪŋ — ðeɪ nˈiːðɚ lˈæf nˈɔːɹ wˈiːp — aɪ sˈiː ðˌɛm kˈʌmɪŋ ænd ɡˈoʊɪŋ. lˈaɪk θˈɪŋz ðæt mˈuːv ɪn slˈiːp: ɡɹˈeɪ sˈaɪɚz ænd bˈɜːdənd bɹˈʌðɚz. ðɪ ˈoʊld. ðə jˈʌŋ, ðə fˈɛɹ. sˈæfɪks tˈuːhˈʌndɹɪd sˈɛvəntˌiːn wˈæn tʃˈiːks ʌv pˈælɪd mˈʌðɚz, ænd ðə ɡˈɜːlz wɪð ɡˈoʊldən hˈɛɹ.