text_original: Bewitch my shadowy fields, oh stars, And thou, oh moon, enchant my woods ! And now the rapturous hour draws near, Birds flutter in the leafy street, Flowers raise their heads in sensuous fear That she may crush them with her feet. With dew blind eyes the roses weep, She comes she will not come it seems; The air is sick with scent of sleep And dust of long forgotten dreams.
text_transcription: BEWITCH MY SHADOWY FIELDS O STARS AND THOU O MOON ENCHANT MY WOODS AND NOW THE RAPTUROUS HOUR DRAWS NEAR BIRDS FLUTTER IN THE LEAFY STREET FLOWERS RAISE THEIR HEADS IN SENSUOUS FEAR THAT SHE MAY CRUSH THEM WITH HER FEET WITH DEWBLIND EYES THE ROSES WEEP SHE COMES SHE WILL NOT COME IT SEEMS THE AIR IS SICK WITH SCENT OF SLEEP AND DUST OF LONG FORGOTTEN DREAMS
phonemes: bᵻwˈɪtʃ maɪ ʃˈædoʊi fˈiːldz, ˈoʊ stˈɑːɹz, ænd ðˈaʊ, ˈoʊ mˈuːn, ɛntʃˈænt maɪ wˈʊdz ! ænd nˈaʊ ðə ɹˈæptʃɚɹəs ˈaʊɚ dɹˈɔːz nˈɪɹ, bˈɜːdz flˈʌɾɚɹ ɪnðə lˈiːfi stɹˈiːt, flˈaʊɚz ɹˈeɪz ðɛɹ hˈɛdz ɪn sˈɛnsjuːəs fˈɪɹ ðæt ʃiː mˈeɪ kɹˈʌʃ ðˌɛm wɪð hɜː fˈiːt. wɪð dˈuː blˈaɪnd ˈaɪz ðə ɹˈoʊzᵻz wˈiːp, ʃiː kˈʌmz ʃiː wɪl nˌɑːt kˈʌm ɪt sˈiːmz; ðɪ ˈɛɹ ɪz sˈɪk wɪð sˈɛnt ʌv slˈiːp ænd dˈʌst ʌv lˈɔŋ fɚɡˈɑːʔn̩ dɹˈiːmz.