text_original: The gaunt wind rises, like an angry hand, And sweeps the sprawling spider from its web, Smites frantic music in the twilight's ear; And all around, like melancholy sand, Rains dead leaves down  wild leaves, that mark the ebb, In Earth's dark hour glass, of another year.
text_transcription: THE GAUNT WIND RISES LIKE AN ANGRY HAND AND SWEEPS THE SPRAWLING SPIDER FROM ITS WEB SMITES FRANTIC MUSIC IN THE TWILIGHT'S EAR AND ALL AROUND LIKE MELANCHOLY SAND REIGNS DEAD LEAVES DOWN WILD LEAVES THAT MARK THE EBB IN EARTH'S DARK HOUR GLASS OF ANOTHER YEAR
phonemes: ðə ɡˈɔːnt wˈɪnd ɹˈaɪzᵻz, lˈaɪk ɐn ˈæŋɡɹi hˈænd, ænd swˈiːps ðə spɹˈɔːlɪŋ spˈaɪdɚ fɹʌm ɪts wˈɛb, smˈaɪts fɹˈæntɪk mjˈuːzɪk ɪnðə twˈaɪlaɪts ˈɪɹ; ænd ˈɔːl ɚɹˈaʊnd, lˈaɪk mˈɛləŋkˌɑːli sˈænd, ɹˈeɪnz dˈɛd lˈiːvz dˌaʊn wˈaɪld lˈiːvz, ðæt mˈɑːɹk ðɪ ˈɛb, ɪn ˈɜːθz dˈɑːɹk ˈaʊɚ ɡlˈæs, ʌv ɐnˈʌðɚ jˈɪɹ.