text_original: A TINY bird flits through the twilight brown, When sunset dreams make all the garden fair, Whose soft notes fall into the quiet air Like olive leaves on waters smooth dropped down.
text_transcription: A TINY BIRD FLITS THROUGH THE TWILIGHT BROWN WHEN SUNSET DREAMS MAKE ALL THE GARDEN FAIR WHOSE SOFT NOTES FALL INTO THE QUIET AIR LIKE OLIVE LEAVES ON WATERS SMOOTH DROPPED DOWN
phonemes: ɐ tˈaɪni bˈɜːd flˈɪts θɹuː ðə twˈaɪlaɪt bɹˈaʊn, wˌɛn sˈʌnsɛt dɹˈiːmz mˌeɪk ˈɔːl ðə ɡˈɑːɹdən fˈɛɹ, hˌuːz sˈɔft nˈoʊts fˈɔːl ˌɪntʊ ðə kwˈaɪət ˈɛɹ lˈaɪk ˈɑːlɪv lˈiːvz ˌɔn wˈɔːɾɚz smˈuːð dɹˈɑːpt dˈaʊn.