text_original: II And I hear the song of the cat bird wake I' the boughs o' the gnarled wild crab, Or there where the snows of the dogwood shake, That the silvery sunbeams stab: And it seems to me that a magic lies In the crystal sweet of its notes, That a myriad blossoms open their eyes As its strain above them floats.
text_transcription: AND I HEAR THE SONG OF THE CATBIRD WAKE IN THE BOUGHS OF THE GNALLED WILD CRAB OR THERE WHERE THE SNOWS OF THE DOG WOULD SHAKE THAT THE SILVERY SUNBEAMS STAB AND IT SEEMS TO ME THAT A MAGIC LIES IN THE CRYSTAL SUITE OF ITS NOTES THAT A MYRIAD BLOSSOMS OPEN THEIR EYES AS ITS STRAIN ABOVE THEM FLOATS
phonemes: ɹˌoʊmən tˈuː ænd aɪ hˈɪɹ ðə sˈɔŋ ʌvðə kˈæt bˈɜːd wˈeɪk aɪ ðə bˈaʊz ˈoʊ ðə nˈɑːɹld wˈaɪld kɹˈæb, ɔːɹ ðɛɹ wˌɛɹ ðə snˈoʊz ʌvðə dˈɑːɡwʊd ʃˈeɪk, ðætðə sˈɪlvɚɹi sˈʌnbiːmz stˈæb: ænd ɪt sˈiːmz tə mˌiː ðˌæɾə mˈædʒɪk lˈaɪz ɪnðə kɹˈɪstəl swˈiːt ʌv ɪts nˈoʊts, ðˌæɾə mˈɪɹɪˌæd blˈɔsəmz ˈoʊpən ðɛɹ ˈaɪz æz ɪts stɹˈeɪn əbˌʌv ðˌɛm flˈoʊts.