text_original: Across the sill I lean, And long with bitter longing, for unseen Rain freshened paths, where budding woods grow green.
text_transcription: ACROSS THE SILL I LEAN AND LONG WITH BITTER LONGING FOR UNSEEN RAIN FRESHENED PATHS WHERE BUDDING WOODS GROW GREEN
phonemes: əkɹˌɑːs ðə sˈɪl aɪ lˈiːn, ænd lˈɔŋ wɪð bˈɪɾɚ lˈɔŋɪŋ, fɔːɹ ʌnsˈiːn ɹˈeɪn fɹˈɛʃənd pˈæθs, wˌɛɹ bˈʌdɪŋ wˈʊdz ɡɹˈoʊ ɡɹˈiːn.