text_original: Through the violet air we see the town, And the summer sun a slipping down; The maple in the hazel glade Throws down the path a longer shade, And the hills are growing brown.
text_transcription: THROUGH THE VIOLET AIR WE SEE THE TOWN AND THE SUMMER SUN IS SLIPPING DOWN THE MAPLE IN THE HAZEL GLADE THROWS DOWN THE PATH ALONG A SHADE AND THE HILLS ARE GROWING BROWN
phonemes: θɹuː ðə vˈaɪəlɪt ˈɛɹ wiː sˈiː ðə tˈaʊn, ænd ðə sˈʌmɚ sˈʌn ɐ slˈɪpɪŋ dˈaʊn; ðə mˈeɪpəl ɪnðə hˈeɪzəl ɡlˈeɪd θɹˈoʊz dˌaʊn ðə pˈæθ ɐ lˈɔŋɡɚ ʃˈeɪd, ænd ðə hˈɪlz ɑːɹ ɡɹˈoʊɪŋ bɹˈaʊn.