text_original: All day the sky was grey and clear; but sometimes at sunset, a flush would rest upon the white fields, tinting them with the delicate pink of half opened apple blossoms. On Christmas Eve, Rhoda Farren sat watching the hungry birds no longer.
text_transcription: ALL DAY THE SKY WAS GRAY AND CLEAR BUT SOMETIMES AT SUNSET A FLUSH WOULD REST UPON THE WHITE FIELDS TINTING THEM WITH A DELICATE PINK OF HALF OPENED APPLE BLOSSOMS ON CHRISTMAS EVE RHODA FARAN SAT WATCHING THE HUNGRY BIRDS NO LONGER
phonemes: ˈɔːl dˈeɪ ðə skˈaɪ wʌz ɡɹˈeɪ ænd klˈɪɹ; bˌʌt sˈʌmtaɪmz æt sˈʌnsɛt, ɐ flˈʌʃ wʊd ɹˈɛst əpˌɑːn ðə wˈaɪt fˈiːldz, tˈɪntɪŋ ðˌɛm wɪððə dˈɛlᵻkət pˈɪŋk ʌv hˈæf ˈoʊpənd ˈæpəl blˈɔsəmz. ˌɔn kɹˈɪsməs ˈiːv, ɹˈoʊdə fˈæɹən sˈæt wˈɑːtʃɪŋ ðə hˈʌŋɡɹi bˈɜːdz nˌoʊ lˈɑːŋɡɚ.