text_original: And as one in a dream I seem to feel The sweep and the rush of the swinging steel, Or I catch the sound of the gay refrain As they heap their wains with the golden grain. THE FALLOW FIELD 307 Yet, O my neighbors, be not too proud, Though on every tongue your praise is loud. Our mother Nature is kind to me, And I am beloved by bird and bee, And never a child that passes by But turns upon me a grateful eye.
text_transcription: AND AS WHEN IN A DREAM I SEEM TO FEEL THE SWEEP AND THE RUSH OF THE SWINGING STEEL OR I CATCH THE SOUND OF THE GAY REFRAIN AS THEY HEAP THEIR WAINS WITH THE GOLDEN GRAIN YET O MY NEIGHBOURS BE NOT TOO PROUD THOUGH ON EVERY TONGUE YOUR PRAISE IS LOUD OUR MOTHER NATURE IS KIND TO ME AND I AM BELOVED BY BIRD AND BEE AND NEVER A CHILD THAT PASSES BY BUT TURNS UPON ME A GRATEFUL EYE
phonemes: ænd æz wˈʌn ɪn ɐ dɹˈiːm aɪ sˈiːm tə fˈiːl ðə swˈiːp ænd ðə ɹˈʌʃ ʌvðə swˈɪŋɪŋ stˈiːl, ɔːɹ aɪ kˈætʃ ðə sˈaʊnd ʌvðə ɡˈeɪ ɹᵻfɹˈeɪn æz ðeɪ hˈiːp ðɛɹ wˈeɪnz wɪððə ɡˈoʊldən ɡɹˈeɪn. ðə fˈæloʊ fˈiːld θɹˈiːhˈʌndɹɪd sˈɛvən jˈɛt, ˈoʊ maɪ nˈeɪbɚz, biː nˌɑːt tˈuː pɹˈaʊd, ðˌoʊ ˌɔn ˈɛvɹi tˈʌŋ jʊɹ pɹˈeɪz ɪz lˈaʊd. ˌaʊɚ mˈʌðɚ nˈeɪtʃɚɹ ɪz kˈaɪnd tə mˌiː, ænd aɪɐm bᵻlˈʌvd baɪ bˈɜːd ænd bˈiː, ænd nˈɛvɚɹ ɐ tʃˈaɪld ðæt pˈæsᵻz baɪ bˌʌt tˈɜːnz əpˌɑːn mˌiː ɐ ɡɹˈeɪtfəl ˈaɪ.