text_original: O'er the harvest acres bright, Came her husband's din of reaping; Near to her, an infant wight Through the tangled grass was creeping. On the branches long and high, And the great green apples growing, Rested she her wandering eye, With a retrospective knowing.
text_transcription: O'ER THE HARVEST ACRES BRIGHT CAME HER HUSBAND'S DIN OF REAPING NEAR TO HER AN INFANT RIGHT THROUGH THE TANGLED GRASS WAS CREEPING ON THE BRANCHES LONG AND HIGH IN THE GREAT GREEN APPLES GROWING RESTED SHE HER WANDERING EYE WITH A RETROSPECTIVE KNOWING
phonemes: ˈɔːɹ ðə hˈɑːɹvɪst ˈeɪkɚz bɹˈaɪt, kˈeɪm hɜː hˈʌsbəndz dˈɪn ʌv ɹˈiːpɪŋ; nˈɪɹ tə hɜː, ɐn ˈɪnfənt wˈaɪt θɹuː ðə tˈæŋɡəld ɡɹˈæs wʌz kɹˈiːpɪŋ. ɔnðə bɹˈæntʃᵻz lˈɔŋ ænd hˈaɪ, ænd ðə ɡɹˈeɪt ɡɹˈiːn ˈæpəlz ɡɹˈoʊɪŋ, ɹˈɛstᵻd ʃiː hɜː wˈɔndɚɹɪŋ ˈaɪ, wɪð ɐ ɹˌɛtɹoʊspˈɛktɪv nˈoʊɪŋ.