text_original: At Framlingham to night, if there should be No guest, beyond a sea born wind that sighs, No guard, save moonlight's crossed and trailing spears, And I, your pilgrim, call you, O let me In at the gate!
text_transcription: AT FRAMLINGHAM TO NIGHT IF THERE SHOULD BE NO GUEST BEYOND THE SEA BORN WIND AT SIZE NO GUARD SAVE MOONLIGHT'S CRUST AND TRAILING SPEARS AND I YOUR PILGRIM CALL YOU OH LET ME IN AT THE GATE
phonemes: æt fɹˈæmlɪŋˌæm tə nˈaɪt, ɪf ðɛɹ ʃˌʊd biː nˈoʊ ɡˈɛst, bᵻjˌɔnd ɐ sˈiː bˈɔːɹn wˈɪnd ðæt sˈaɪz, nˈoʊ ɡˈɑːɹd, sˈeɪv mˈuːnlaɪts kɹˈɔst ænd tɹˈeɪlɪŋ spˈɪɹz, ænd ˈaɪ, jʊɹ pˈɪlɡɹɪm, kˈɔːl juː, ˈoʊ lˈɛt mˌiː ɪn æt ðə ɡˈeɪt!