text_original: I think of those Upon whose rest he tramples. Are they here   The dead of other days?  and did the dust Of these fair solitudes once stir with life And burn with passion? Let the mighty mounds That overlook the rivers, or that rise In the dim forest crowded with old oaks, Answer.
text_transcription: I THINK OF THOSE UPON WHOSE REST HE TRAMPLES ARE THEY HERE THE DEAD OF OTHER DAYS AND DID THE DUST OF THESE FAIR SOLITUDES ONCE STIR WITH LIFE AND BURN WITH PASSION LET THE MIGHTY MOUNDS THAT OVERLOOK THE RIVERS OR THAT RISE IN THE DIM FOREST CROWDED WITH OLD OAKS ANSWER
phonemes: aɪ θˈɪŋk ʌv ðoʊz əpˌɑːn hˌuːz ɹˈɛst hiː tɹˈæmpəlz. ɑːɹ ðeɪ hˈɪɹ ðə dˈɛd ʌv ˈʌðɚ dˈeɪz?  ænd dˈɪd ðə dˈʌst ʌv ðiːz fˈɛɹ sˈɑːlɪtˌuːdz wˈʌns stˈɜː wɪð lˈaɪf ænd bˈɜːn wɪð pˈæʃən? lˈɛt ðə mˈaɪɾi mˈaʊndz ðæt ˌoʊvɚlˈʊk ðə ɹˈɪvɚz, ɔːɹ ðæt ɹˈaɪz ɪnðə dˈɪm fˈɔːɹɪst kɹˈaʊdᵻd wɪð ˈoʊld ˈoʊks, ˈænsɚ.