text_original: THE OWLET I When dusk is drowned in drowsy dreams, And slow the hues of sunset die; When firefly and moth go by, And in still streams the new moon gleams, A sickle in the sky; Then from the hills there comes a cry, The owlet's cry; A shivering voice that sobs and screams, That, frightened, screams: "Who is it, who is it, who?
text_transcription: THE OWLET ONE WHEN DUSK IS DROWNED IN DROWSY DREAMS AND SLOW THE HUES OF SUNSET DIE WHEN FIREFLY AND MOTH GO BY AND IN STILL STREAMS THE NEW MOON GLEAMS A SICKLE IN THE SKY THEN FROM THE HILLS THERE COMES A CRY THE OWLET'S CRY A SHIVERING VOICE THAT SOBS AND SCREAMS THAT FRIGHTENED SCREAMS WHO IS IT WHO IS IT WHO
phonemes: ðɪ ˈaʊlɪt aɪ wɛn dˈʌsk ɪz dɹˈaʊnd ɪn dɹˈaʊsi dɹˈiːmz, ænd slˈoʊ ðə hjˈuːz ʌv sˈʌnsɛt dˈaɪ; wˌɛn fˈaɪɚflaɪ ænd mˈɑːθ ɡˌoʊ bˈaɪ, ænd ɪn stˈɪl stɹˈiːmz ðə nˈuː mˈuːn ɡlˈiːmz, ɐ sˈɪkəl ɪnðə skˈaɪ; ðˈɛn fɹʌmðə hˈɪlz ðɛɹ kˈʌmz ɐ kɹˈaɪ, ðɪ ˈaʊlɪts kɹˈaɪ; ɐ ʃˈɪvɚɹɪŋ vˈɔɪs ðæt sˈɑːbz ænd skɹˈiːmz, ðˈæt, fɹˈaɪʔn̩d, skɹˈiːmz: "hˈuː ɪz ɪt, hˈuː ɪz ɪt, hˈuː?