text_original: I cannot tell, but it stirs something strangely responsive in my own heart; I sense far back things that I cannot take hold of, or put into tangible shape, and for the moment I feel mysteriously akin to the unseen singer in the blue green depths of the old and rugged pine.
text_transcription: I CANNOT TELL BUT IT STIRS SOMETHING STRANGELY RESPONSIVE IN MY OWN HEART I SENSE FAR BACK THINGS THAT I CANNOT TAKE HOLD OF OR PUT INTO TANGIBLE SHAPE AND FOR THE MOMENT I FEEL MYSTERIOUSLY AKIN TO THE UNSEEN SINGER IN THE BLUE GREEN DEPTHS OF THE OLD AND RUGGED PINE
phonemes: aɪ kænˈɑːt tˈɛl, bˌʌt ɪt stˈɜːz sˈʌmθɪŋ stɹˈeɪndʒli ɹᵻspˈɑːnsɪv ɪn maɪ ˈoʊn hˈɑːɹt; aɪ sˈɛns fˈɑːɹ bˈæk θˈɪŋz ðæt aɪ kænˈɑːt tˈeɪk hˈoʊld ʌv, ɔːɹ pˌʊt ˌɪntʊ tˈændʒɪbəl ʃˈeɪp, ænd fɚðə mˈoʊmənt aɪ fˈiːl mɪstˈɪɹiəsli ɐkˈɪn tə ðɪ ʌnsˈiːn sˈɪŋɚɹ ɪnðə blˈuː ɡɹˈiːn dˈɛpθs ʌvðɪ ˈoʊld ænd ɹˈʌɡᵻd pˈaɪn.