text_original: Slow passes the darkness of that trance, And the youth now faintly sees Huge shadows and gushes of light that dance On a rugged ceiling of unhewn trees, And walls where the skins of beasts are hung, And rifles glitter on antlers strung.
text_transcription: SLOW PASSES THE DARKNESS OF THAT TRANCE AND THE YOUTH NOW FAINTLY SEES HUGE SHADOWS AND GUSHES OF LIGHT THAT DANCE ON A RUGGED CEILING OF UNHEWN TREES AND WALLS WHERE THE SKINS OF BEASTS ARE HUNG AND RIFLES GLITTER ON ANTLER STRUNG
phonemes: slˈoʊ pˈæsᵻz ðə dˈɑːɹknəs ʌv ðæt tɹˈæns, ænd ðə jˈuːθ nˈaʊ fˈeɪntli sˈiːz hjˈuːdʒ ʃˈædoʊz ænd ɡˈʌʃᵻz ʌv lˈaɪt ðæt dˈæns ˌɔn ɐ ɹˈʌɡᵻd sˈiːlɪŋ ʌv ʌnhjˈuːn tɹˈiːz, ænd wˈɔːlz wˌɛɹ ðə skˈɪnz ʌv bˈiːsts ɑːɹ hˈʌŋ, ænd ɹˈaɪfəlz ɡlˈɪɾɚɹ ˌɔn ˈæntlɚz stɹˈʌŋ.