text_original: 'You cannot imagine, my Emmeline,' said she, 'how exquisitely beautiful the prospect is from the point of these rocks where we stand, in the midst of summer; now the sun, more distant, gives it a less glowing and rich lustre, and reflects not his warm rays on the sea, and on the white cliffs that hang over it.
text_transcription: YOU CANNOT IMAGINE MY EMMELINE SAID SHE HOW EXQUISITELY BEAUTIFUL THE PROSPECT IS FROM THE POINT OF THESE ROCKS WHERE WE STAND IN THE MIDST OF SUMMER NOW THE SUN MORE DISTANT GIVES IT A LESS GLOWING AND RICH LUSTRE AND REFLECTS NOT HIS WARM RAYS ON THE SEA AND ON THE WHITE CLIFFS THAT HANG OVER IT
phonemes: juː kænˈɑːt ɪmˈædʒɪn, maɪ ˈɛmɪlˌaɪn,sˈɛd ʃiː, hˌaʊ ɛkskwˈɪsɪtli bjˈuːɾifəl ðə pɹˈɑːspɛkt ɪz fɹʌmðə pˈɔɪnt ʌv ðiːz ɹˈɑːks wˌɛɹ wiː stˈænd, ɪnðə mˈɪdst ʌv sˈʌmɚ; nˈaʊ ðə sˈʌn, mˈɔːɹ dˈɪstənt, ɡˈɪvz ɪɾ ɐ lˈɛs ɡlˈoʊɪŋ ænd ɹˈɪtʃ lˈʌstɚ, ænd ɹᵻflˈɛkts nˌɑːt hɪz wˈɔːɹm ɹˈeɪz ɔnðə sˈiː, ænd ɔnðə wˈaɪt klˈɪfs ðæt hˈæŋ ˈoʊvɚɹ ɪt.