text_original: How the sumac banners bent, dripping as if with blood, What a mournful presence brooded upon the slumbrous air; A mocking bird screamed noisily in the depths of the silent wood, And in my heart was crying the raven of despair, Thrilling my being through with its desolate, desolate cry   "It were better to die, it were better to die."
text_transcription: HOW THE SUMAC BANNERS BENT DRIPPING AS IF WITH BLOOD WHAT A MOURNFUL PRESENCE BROODED UPON THE SLUMBROUS AIR A MOCKING BIRD SCREAMED NOISILY IN THE DEPTHS OF THE SILENT WOOD AND MY HEART WAS CRYING THE RAVEN OF DESPAIR THRILLING MY BEING THROUGH WITH ITS DESOLATE DESOLATE CRY IT WERE BETTER TO DIE IT WERE BETTER TO DIE
phonemes: hˌaʊ ðə sˈuːmæk bˈænɚz bˈɛnt, dɹˈɪpɪŋ æz ɪf wɪð blˈʌd, wˌʌt ɐ mˈɔːɹnfəl pɹˈɛzəns bɹˈuːdᵻd əpˌɑːn ðə slˈʌmbɹəs ˈɛɹ; ɐ mˈɑːkɪŋ bˈɜːd skɹˈiːmd nˈɔɪzili ɪnðə dˈɛpθs ʌvðə sˈaɪlənt wˈʊd, ænd ɪn maɪ hˈɑːɹt wʌz kɹˈaɪɪŋ ðə ɹˈeɪvən ʌv dᵻspˈɛɹ, θɹˈɪlɪŋ maɪ bˌiːɪŋ θɹuː wɪð ɪts dˈɛsələt, dˈɛsələt kɹˈaɪ   "ɪt wɜː bˈɛɾɚ tə dˈaɪ, ɪt wɜː bˈɛɾɚ tə dˈaɪ."