text_original: The falling dew is cold and chill, And no bird sings in Arcady, The little fauns have left the hill, Even the tired daffodil Has closed its gilded doors, and still My lover comes not back to me.
text_transcription: THE FALLING DEW IS COLD AND CHILL AND NO BIRD SINGS IN ARCHADY THE LITTLE FAUNS HAVE LEFT THE HILL EVEN THE TIRED DAFFODIL HAS CLOSED ITS GILDED DOORS AND STILL MY LOVER COMES NOT BACK TO ME
phonemes: ðə fˈɔːlɪŋ dˈuː ɪz kˈoʊld ænd tʃˈɪl, ænd nˈoʊ bˈɜːd sˈɪŋz ɪn ˈɑːɹkædi, ðə lˈɪɾəl fˈɔːnz hæv lˈɛft ðə hˈɪl, ˈiːvən ðə tˈaɪɚd dˈæfədˌɪl hɐz klˈoʊzd ɪts ɡˈɪldᵻd dˈɔːɹz, ænd stˈɪl maɪ lˈʌvɚ kˈʌmz nˌɑːt bˈæk tə mˌiː.