text_original: Our trace rose and fell over height and valley, until we knew that we were come to a wonderland at last. We stood one evening on a spur as the setting sun flooded the natural park below us with a crystal light and, striking a tall sycamore, turned its green to gold.
text_transcription: OUR TRACE ROSE AND FELL OVER HEIGHT AND VALLEY UNTIL WE KNEW THAT WE WERE COME TO A WONDERLAND AT LAST WE STOOD ONE EVENING ON A SPUR AS THE SETTING SUN FLOODED THE NATURAL PART BELOW US WITH A CRYSTAL LIGHT AND STRIKING A TALL SYCAMORE TURNED ITS GREEN TO GOLD
phonemes: ˌaʊɚ tɹˈeɪs ɹˈoʊz ænd fˈɛl ˌoʊvɚ hˈaɪt ænd vˈæli, ʌntˈɪl wiː nˈuː ðæt wiː wɜː kˈʌm tʊ ɐ wˈʌndɚlənd æt lˈæst. wiː stˈʊd wˈʌn ˈiːvnɪŋ ˌɔn ɐ spˈɜːɹ æz ðə sˈɛɾɪŋ sˈʌn flˈʌdᵻd ðə nˈætʃɚɹəl pˈɑːɹk bᵻlˌoʊ ˌʌs wɪð ɐ kɹˈɪstəl lˈaɪt ænd, stɹˈaɪkɪŋ ɐ tˈɔːl sˈɪkɐmˌɔːɹ, tˈɜːnd ɪts ɡɹˈiːn tə ɡˈoʊld.