text_original: I look down on the dingy court below: A tuft of grass is all it has to show,   A broken pump, where thirsty children go. Above, there shines a bit of sky, so small That it might be a passing blue bird's wing. One tree leans up against the high brick wall, And there the sparrows twitter of the spring, Until they waken in my heart a cry Of hunger, that no bread can satisfy.
text_transcription: I LOOK DOWN ON THE DINGY COURT BELOW A TUFT OF GRASS IS ALL IT HAS TO SHOW A BROKEN PUMP WHERE THIRSTY CHILDREN GO ABOVE THERE SHINES A BIT OF SKY SO SMALL THAT IT MIGHT BE A PASSING BLUEBIRD'S WING ONE TREE LEANS UP AGAINST THE HIGH BRICK WALL AND THERE THE SPARROWS TWITTER OF THE SPRING UNTIL THEY WAKEN IN MY HEART A CRY OF HUNGER THAT NO BREAD CAN SATISFY
phonemes: aɪ lˈʊk dˌaʊn ɔnðə dˈɪndʒi kˈɔːɹt bᵻlˈoʊ: ɐ tˈʌft ʌv ɡɹˈæs ɪz ˈɔːl ɪt hɐz tə ʃˈoʊ,   ɐ bɹˈoʊkən pˈʌmp, wˌɛɹ θˈɜːsti tʃˈɪldɹən ɡˈoʊ. əbˈʌv, ðɛɹ ʃˈaɪnz ɐ bˈɪt ʌv skˈaɪ, sˌoʊ smˈɔːl ðˌɐɾɪt mˌaɪt biː ɐ pˈæsɪŋ blˈuː bˈɜːdz wˈɪŋ. wˈʌn tɹˈiː lˈiːnz ˌʌp ɐɡˈɛnst ðə hˈaɪ bɹˈɪk wˈɔːl, ænd ðɛɹ ðə spˈæɹoʊz twˈɪɾɚɹ ʌvðə spɹˈɪŋ, ʌntˈɪl ðeɪ wˈeɪkən ɪn maɪ hˈɑːɹt ɐ kɹˈaɪ ʌv hˈʌŋɡɚ, ðæt nˈoʊ bɹˈɛd kæn sˈæɾɪsfˌaɪ.