text_original: TO A DOVE 1 Thy mellow passioning amid the leaves, That tremble dimly in the summer dusk, Falls sad along the oatland's sallow sheaves And haunts above the runnel's voice a husk With plashy willow and bold wading reed.
text_transcription: TO A DOVE ONE THY MELLOW PASSIONING AMID THE LEAVES THAT TREMBLE DIMLY IN THE SUMMER DUSK FALLS SAD ALONG THE OATLAND'S SALLOW SHEAVES AND HORNS ABOVE THE RUNNER'S VOICE A HUSK WITH PLASHY WILLOW AND BOLD WADING REED
phonemes: tuː ɐ dˈʌv wˈʌn ðˌaɪ mˈɛloʊ pˈæʃənɪŋ ɐmˈɪd ðə lˈiːvz, ðæt tɹˈɛmbəl dˈɪmli ɪnðə sˈʌmɚ dˈʌsk, fˈɔːlz sˈæd ɐlˈɔŋ ðɪ ˈoʊtləndz sˈæloʊ ʃˈiːvz ænd hˈɔːnts əbˌʌv ðə ɹˈʌnəlz vˈɔɪs ɐ hˈʌsk wɪð plˈæʃi wˈɪloʊ ænd bˈoʊld wˈeɪdɪŋ ɹˈiːd.