text_original: The crickets sing no more to the stars   The spiders no more put up silver bars To entangle silken wings; But the quail pipes low in the rusted corn, And here and there  both at night and at morn   A lonely robin still sings.
text_transcription: THE CRICKETS SING NO MORE TO THE STARS THE SPIDERS NO MORE PUT UP SILVER BARS TO UNTANGLE SILKEN WINGS BUT THE QUAIL PIPES LOW IN THE RUSTED CORN AND HERE AND THERE BOTH AT NIGHT AND AT MORN A LONELY ROBIN SINGS
phonemes: ðə kɹˈɪkɪts sˈɪŋ nˈoʊmˌɔːɹ tə ðə stˈɑːɹz ðə spˈaɪdɚz nˈoʊmˌɔːɹ pˌʊt ˌʌp sˈɪlvɚ bˈɑːɹz tʊ ɛntˈæŋɡəl sˈɪlkən wˈɪŋz; bˌʌt ðə kwˈeɪl pˈaɪps lˈoʊ ɪnðə ɹˈʌstᵻd kˈɔːɹn, ænd hˈɪɹ ɐnd ðˈɛɹ bˈoʊθ æt nˈaɪt ænd æt mˈɔːɹn ɐ lˈoʊnli ɹˈɑːbɪn stˈɪl sˈɪŋz.