text_original: Through the mist veil faintly struggling, The rays of the setting sun Reddened the leafy village Of white walled Bennington. Then out of the dismal weather Came many a sound of war,   The straggling shots and the volleys And the cries, now near now far.
text_transcription: THROUGH THE MIST VEIL FAINTLY STRUGGLING THE RAYS OF THE SETTING SUN REDDENED THE LEAFY VILLAGE OF WHITEWALD BENNINGTON THEN OUT OF THE DISMAL WEATHER CAME MANY A SOUND OF WAR THE STRAGGLING SHOTS IN THE VOLLEYS AND THE CRIES NOW NEAR NOW FAR
phonemes: θɹuː ðə mˈɪst vˈeɪl fˈeɪntli stɹˈʌɡlɪŋ, ðə ɹˈeɪz ʌvðə sˈɛɾɪŋ sˈʌn ɹˈɛdənd ðə lˈiːfi vˈɪlɪdʒ ʌv wˈaɪt wˈɔːld bˈɛnɪŋtən. ðˈɛn ˌaʊɾəv ðə dˈɪzməl wˈɛðɚ kˈeɪm mˈɛni ɐ sˈaʊnd ʌv wˈɔːɹ,   ðə stɹˈæɡlɪŋ ʃˈɑːts ænd ðə vˈɑːliz ænd ðə kɹˈaɪz, nˈaʊ nˌɪɹ nˈaʊ fˈɑːɹ.