text_original: a rustling On the frosty air, Where the aspens, all a quiver, Bend their branches bare ; Airy birches, stately maples, Black against the sk^^, Wave their leafless boughs like banners When a king goes by.
text_transcription: A RUSTLING ON THE FROSTY AIR WHERE THE ASPENS ALL AQUIVER BEND THEIR BRANCHES BARE AIRY BIRCHES STATELY MAPLES BLACK AGAINST THE SKY WAVE THEIR LEAFLESS BOUGHS LIKE BANNERS WHEN A KING GOES BY
phonemes: ɐ ɹˈʌsəlɪŋ ɔnðə fɹˈɔsti ˈɛɹ, wˌɛɹ ðɪ ˈæspənz, ˈɔːl ɐ kwˈɪvɚ, bˈɛnd ðɛɹ bɹˈæntʃᵻz bˈɛɹ ; ˈɛɹi bˈɜːtʃᵻz, stˈeɪtli mˈeɪpəlz, blˈæk ɐɡˈɛnst ðɪ ˌɛskˈeɪ, wˈeɪv ðɛɹ lˈiːfləs bˈaʊz lˈaɪk bˈænɚz wɛn ɐ kˈɪŋ ɡoʊz bˈaɪ.