| A thing of beauty is a joy forever | ə θɪŋ ɒv ˈbjuːti ɪz ə ʤɔɪ fəˈrɛvə |
| Its loveliness increases, it will never | ɪts ˈlʌvlɪnɪs ˈɪnkriːsɪz, ɪt wɪl ˈnɛvə |
| Pass into nothingness; but will keep | pɑːs ˈɪntuː ˈnʌθɪŋnɪs; bʌt wɪl kiːp |
| A bower quiet for us, and a sleep | ə ˈbaʊə ˈkwaɪət fɔːr ʌs, ænd ə sliːp |
| Full of sweet dreams, and health, and quiet breathing. | fʊl ɒv swiːt driːmz, ænd hɛlθ, ænd ˈkwaɪət ˈbriːðɪŋ. |
| Therefore, on every morrow, are we wreathing | ˈðeəfɔː, ɒn ˈɛvri ˈmɒrəʊ, ɑː wiː ˈriːðɪŋ |
| A flowery band to bind us to the earth, | ə ˈflaʊəri bænd tuː baɪnd ʌs tuː ði ɜːθ, |
| Spite of despondence, of the inhuman dearth | spaɪt ɒv despondence, ɒv ði ɪnˈhjuːmən dɜːθ |
| Of noble natures, of the gloomy days, | ɒv ˈnəʊbl ˈneɪʧəz, ɒv ðə ˈgluːmi deɪz, |
| Of all the unhealthy and o’er-darkened ways | ɒv ɔːl ði ʌnˈhɛlθi ænd ˈəʊə-ˈdɑːkənd weɪz |
| Made for our searching: yes, in spite of all, | meɪd fɔːr ˈaʊə ˈsɜːʧɪŋ: jɛs, ɪn spaɪt ɒv ɔːl, |
| Some shape of beauty moves away the pall | sʌm ʃeɪp ɒv ˈbjuːti muːvz əˈweɪ ðə pɔːl |
| From our dark spirits. Such the sun, the moon, | frɒm ˈaʊə dɑːk ˈspɪrɪts. sʌʧ ðə sʌn, ðə muːn, |
| Trees old, and young, sprouting a shady boon | triːz əʊld, ænd jʌŋ, ˈspraʊtɪŋ ə ˈʃeɪdi buːn |
| For simple sheep; and such are daffodils | fɔː ˈsɪmpl ʃiːp; ænd sʌʧ ɑː ˈdæfədɪlz |
| With the green world they live in; and clear rills | wɪð ðə griːn wɜːld ðeɪ lɪv ɪn; ænd klɪə rɪlz |
| That for themselves a cooling covert make | ðæt fɔː ðəmˈsɛlvz ə ˈkuːlɪŋ ˈkʌvət meɪk |
| ‘Gainst the hot season; the mid forest brake, | geɪnst ðə hɒt ˈsiːzn; ðə mɪd ˈfɒrɪst breɪk, |
| Rich with a sprinkling of fair musk-rose blooms; | rɪʧ wɪð ə ˈsprɪŋklɪŋ ɒv feə mʌsk-rəʊz bluːmz; |
| And such too is the grandeur of the dooms | ænd sʌʧ tuː ɪz ðə ˈgrænʤər ɒv ðə duːmz |
| We have imagined for the mighty dead; | wiː hæv ɪˈmæʤɪnd fɔː ðə ˈmaɪti dɛd; |
| All lovely tales that we have heard or read; | ɔːl ˈlʌvli ˈteɪliːz ðæt wiː hæv hɜːd ɔː riːd; |
| An endless fountain of immortal drink, | ən ˈɛndlɪs ˈfaʊntɪn ɒv ɪˈmɔːtl drɪŋk, |
| Pouring unto us from the heaven’s brink. | ˈpɔːrɪŋ ˈʌntʊ ʌs frɒm ðə ˈhɛvnz brɪŋk. |
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