text_original: For I was born of the wilderness. It had no terrors for me, nor did I ever feel alone. The great cliffs with their clinging, gnarled trees, the vast mountains clothed in the motley colors of the autumn, the sweet and smoky smell of the Indian summer,  all were dear to me.
text_transcription: FOR I WAS BORN OF THE WILDERNESS IT HAD NO TERRORS FOR ME NOR DID I EVER FEEL ALONE THE GREAT CLIFFS WITH THEIR CLINGING GNARLED TREES THE VAST MOUNTAINS CLOTHED IN THE MOTLEY COLORS OF THE AUTUMN THE SWEET AND SMOKY SMELL OF THE INDIAN SUMMER ALL WERE DEAR TO ME
phonemes: fɔːɹ aɪ wʌz bˈɔːɹn ʌvðə wˈɪldɚnəs. ɪt hæd nˈoʊ tˈɛɹɚz fɔːɹ mˌiː, nˈɔːɹ dˈɪd aɪ ˈɛvɚ fˈiːl ɐlˈoʊn. ðə ɡɹˈeɪt klˈɪfs wɪð ðɛɹ klˈɪŋɪŋ, nˈɑːɹld tɹˈiːz, ðə vˈæst mˈaʊntɪnz klˈoʊðd ɪnðə mˈɑːtli kˈʌlɚz ʌvðɪ ˈɔːɾʌm, ðə swˈiːt ænd smˈoʊki smˈɛl ʌvðɪ ˈɪndiən sˈʌmɚ,  ˈɔːl wɜː dˈɪɹ tə mˌiː.