text_original: The wise old trees Drop their leaves with a faint, sharp hiss of contempt, While a car at the end of the street goes by with a laugh; As by degrees The poor bells cease, and the Night is exempt, And the stars can chaff The ironic moon at their ease, while the dim old church Is peopled with shadows and sounds and ghosts that lurch In its cenotaph.
text_transcription: THE WISE OLD TREES DROP THEIR LEAVES WITH A FAINT SHARP HISS OF CONTEMPT WHILE A CAR AT THE END OF THE STREET GOES BY WITH A LAUGH AS BY DEGREES THE POOR BELLS CEASE AND THE NIGHT IS EXEMPT AND THE STARS CAN CHAFF THE IRONIC MOON AT THEIR EASE WHILE THE DIM OLD CHURCH IS PEOPLED WITH SHADOWS AND SOUNDS AND GHOSTS THAT LURCH IN ITS SENATIVE
phonemes: ðə wˈaɪz ˈoʊld tɹˈiːz dɹˈɑːp ðɛɹ lˈiːvz wɪð ɐ fˈeɪnt, ʃˈɑːɹp hˈɪs ʌv kəntˈɛmpt, wˌaɪl ɐ kˈɑːɹ æt ðɪ ˈɛnd ʌvðə stɹˈiːt ɡoʊz baɪ wɪð ɐ lˈæf; æz baɪ dᵻɡɹˈiːz ðə pˈʊɹ bˈɛlz sˈiːs, ænd ðə nˈaɪt ɪz ɛɡzˈɛmpt, ænd ðə stˈɑːɹz kæn tʃˈæf ðɪ aɪɹˈɑːnɪk mˈuːn æt ðɛɹ ˈiːz, wˌaɪl ðə dˈɪm ˈoʊld tʃˈɜːtʃ ɪz pˈiːpəld wɪð ʃˈædoʊz ænd sˈaʊndz ænd ɡˈoʊsts ðæt lˈɜːtʃ ɪn ɪts sˈɛnətˌæf.