text_original: The dry leaves rustle, the grasses fade, The lily droops on tne garden bed, The birds sit silent and seek the shade, And all the roadside flowers are dead. Our hearts are fain for the patter again On roof and pane of the blessed rain.
text_transcription: THE DRY LEAVES RUSTLE THE GRASS IS FADE THE LILY DROOPS ON THE GARDEN BED THE BIRDS SIT SILENT AND SEEK THE SHADE AND ALL THE ROADSIDE FLOWERS ARE DEAD OUR HEARTS ARE FAIN FOR THE PATTER AGAIN ON ROOF AND PANE OF THE BLESSED RAIN
phonemes: ðə dɹˈaɪ lˈiːvz ɹˈʌsəl, ðə ɡɹˈæsᵻz fˈeɪd, ðə lˈɪli dɹˈuːps ˌɔn tˌiːˌɛnˈiː ɡˈɑːɹdən bˈɛd, ðə bˈɜːdz sˈɪt sˈaɪlənt ænd sˈiːk ðə ʃˈeɪd, ænd ˈɔːl ðə ɹˈoʊdsaɪd flˈaʊɚz ɑːɹ dˈɛd. ˌaʊɚ hˈɑːɹts ɑːɹ fˈeɪn fɚðə pˈæɾɚɹ ɐɡˈɛn ˌɔn ɹˈuːf ænd pˈeɪn ʌvðə blˈɛst ɹˈeɪn.