text_original: EVENING AT WASHINGTON The purple stretches of the evening sky Lean to the fair white city waiting here, Flecking with gold the marble's lifted tier, Down the blue marsh where crows to Southward fly.
text_transcription: EVENING AT WASHINGTON THE PURPLE STRETCHES OF THE EVENING SKY LEAN TO THE FAIR WHITE CITY WAITING HERE FLECKING WITH GOLD THE MARBLE'S LIFTED TEAR DOWN THE BLUE MARSH WHERE CROWS TO SOUTHWARD FLY
phonemes: ˈiːvnɪŋ æt wˈɑːʃɪŋtən ðə pˈɜːpəl stɹˈɛtʃᵻz ʌvðɪ ˈiːvnɪŋ skˈaɪ lˈiːn tuː ðə fˈɛɹ wˈaɪt sˈɪɾi wˈeɪɾɪŋ hˈɪɹ, flˈɛkɪŋ wɪð ɡˈoʊld ðə mˈɑːɹbəlz lˈɪftᵻd tˈɪɹ, dˌaʊn ðə blˈuː mˈɑːɹʃ wˌɛɹ kɹˈoʊz tə sˈaʊθwɚd flˈaɪ.