text_original: I followed one young novice, Who held an old man's hand; I listened,—they were speaking, Of some dear, distant Land. The boy I saw was pointing Away, right out to sea, Where moonlight made a pathway, Of silver radiancy.
text_transcription: I FOLLOWED ONE YOUNG NOVICE WHO HELD AN OLD MAN'S HAND I LISTENED THEY WERE SPEAKING OF SOME DEAR DISTANT LAND THE BOY I SAW WAS POINTING AWAY RIGHT OUT TO SEA WHERE MOONLIGHT MADE A PATHWAY OF SILVER RADIANCY
phonemes: aɪ fˈɑːloʊd wˈʌn jˈʌŋ nˈɑːvɪs, hˌuː hˈɛld ɐn ˈoʊld mˈænz hˈænd; aɪ lˈɪsənd,—ðeɪ wɜː spˈiːkɪŋ, ʌv sˌʌm dˈɪɹ, dˈɪstənt lˈænd. ðə bˈɔɪ aɪ sˈɔː wʌz pˈɔɪntɪŋ ɐwˈeɪ, ɹˈaɪt ˈaʊt tə sˈiː, wˌɛɹ mˈuːnlaɪt mˌeɪd ɐ pˈæθweɪ, ʌv sˈɪlvɚ ɹˈeɪdiənsi.