text_original: AN AFTERNOON I am stirred by the dream of an afternoon Of a perfect day—though it was not June; The lilt of winds, and the droning tune That a busy city was humming.
text_transcription: ASE ENJOY I AM STIRRED BY THE DREAM OF AN AFTERNOON OF A PERFECT DAY THOUGH IT WAS NOT JUNE THE LILT OF WINDS AND THE DRONING TUNE THAT A BUSY CITY WAS HUMMING
phonemes: ɐn ˌæftɚnˈuːn aɪɐm stˈɜːd baɪ ðə dɹˈiːm əvən ˌæftɚnˈuːn əvə pˈɜːfɛkt dˈeɪ—ðˌoʊ ɪt wʌz nˌɑːt dʒˈuːn; ðə lˈɪlt ʌv wˈɪndz, ænd ðə dɹˈoʊnɪŋ tˈuːn ðˌæɾə bˈɪzi sˈɪɾi wʌz hˈʌmɪŋ.