text_original: l82 " Will deeds to do, the pulses stir, To save a race undone ; Till some low whisper fills the ear ; ' Shall we two fight as one ? ' ** i83 BLURRED EDGES. They are round me to night in the gloaming, Their voices fall on my ear ; They seem to hover and touch me, But I like them and have no fear.
text_transcription: WILL DEEDS TO DO THE PULSES STIR TO SAVE A RACE UNDONE TILL SOME LOW WHISPER FILLS THE EAR SHALL WE TWO FIGHT AS ONE THE BLURRED EDGES THEY ARE ROUND ME TO NIGHT IN THE GLOAMING THEIR VOICES FALL ON MY EAR THEY SEEM TO HOVER AND TOUCH ME BUT I LIKE THEM AND HAVE NO FEAR
phonemes: ˈɛl ˈeɪɾi tˈuː " wɪl dˈiːdz tə dˈuː, ðə pˈʌlsᵻz stˈɜː, tə sˈeɪv ɐ ɹˈeɪs ʌndˈʌn ; tˈɪl sˌʌm lˈoʊ wˈɪspɚ fˈɪlz ðɪ ˈɪɹ ; ʃˌæl wiː tˈuː fˈaɪt æz wˌʌn ? ˈæstɚɹˌɪskɐstɚɹˌɪsk ˈaɪ ˈeɪɾi θɹˈiː blˈɜːd ˈɛdʒᵻz. ðeɪ ɑːɹ ɹˈaʊnd mˌiː tə nˈaɪt ɪnðə ɡlˈoʊmɪŋ, ðɛɹ vˈɔɪsᵻz fˈɔːl ˌɔn maɪ ˈɪɹ ; ðeɪ sˈiːm tə hˈʌvɚ ænd tˈʌtʃ mˌiː, bˌʌt aɪ lˈaɪk ðˌɛm ænd hæv nˈoʊ fˈɪɹ.