text_original: Leaving our cities astir with war; And yet on the fair fields deserted Lingerest, wherever the gaudy seasons Deck with excessive splendour The sorrow stricken year, Where cornlands bask and high elms rustle gently, And still the unweeting birds sing on by brae and bourn.
text_transcription: LEAVING OUR CITIES ASTIR WITH WAR AND YET ON THE FAIR FIELDS DESERTED LINGEREST WHEREVER THE GAUDY SEASONS DECK WITH EXCESSIVE SPLENDOR THE SORROW STRICKEN YEAR WHERE CORN LANDS BASK AND HIGH ELMS RUSTLE GENTLY AND STILL THE UNWEATING BIRDS SING ON THY BRAY AND BORN
phonemes: lˈiːvɪŋ ˌaʊɚ sˈɪɾiz ɐstˈɜː wɪð wˈɔːɹ; ænd jˈɛt ɔnðə fˈɛɹ fˈiːldz dᵻzˈɜːɾᵻd lˈɪŋɡɚɹɪst, wɛɹˈɛvɚ ðə ɡˈɔːdi sˈiːzənz dˈɛk wɪð ɛksˈɛsɪv splˈɛndɚ ðə sˈɑːɹoʊ stɹˈɪkən jˈɪɹ, wˌɛɹ kˈɔːɹnləndz bˈæsk ænd hˈaɪ ˈɛlmz ɹˈʌsəl dʒˈɛntli, ænd stˈɪl ðɪ ʌnwˈiːɾɪŋ bˈɜːdz sˈɪŋ ˌɔn baɪ bɹˈiː ænd bˈɔːɹn.