text_original: Ah! the brown bird has ceased: one exquisite trill About the sombre woodland seems to cling Dying in music, else the air is still, So still that one might hear the bat's small wing Wander and wheel above the pines, or tell Each tiny dew drop dripping from the bluebell's brimming cell.
text_transcription: AH THE BROWN BIRD HAS CEASED ONE EXQUISITE TRILL ABOUT THE SOMBRE WOODLAND SEEMS TO CLING DYING IN MUSIC ELSE THE AIR IS STILL SO STILL THAT ONE MIGHT HEAR THE BAT'S SMALL WING WANDER AND WHEEL ABOVE THE PINES OR TELL EACH TINY DEWDROP DRIPPING FROM THE BLUEBELL'S BRIMMING CELL
phonemes: ˈɑː! ðə bɹˈaʊn bˈɜːd hɐz sˈiːst: wˈʌn ɛkskwˈɪsɪt tɹˈɪl ɐbˌaʊt ðə sˈɑːmbɚ wˈʊdlənd sˈiːmz tə klˈɪŋ dˈaɪɪŋ ɪn mjˈuːzɪk, ˈɛls ðɪ ˈɛɹ ɪz stˈɪl, sˌoʊ stˈɪl ðˈætwˌʌn mˌaɪt hˈɪɹ ðə bˈæts smˈɔːl wˈɪŋ wˈɔndɚ ænd wˈiːl əbˌʌv ðə pˈaɪnz, ɔːɹ tˈɛl ˈiːtʃ tˈaɪni dˈuː dɹˈɑːp dɹˈɪpɪŋ fɹʌmðə blˈuːbɛlz bɹˈɪmɪŋ sˈɛl.