text_original: There was no sound, not one tiny noise of water, wind in trees, or man; not even of birds or the moor ponies. And the mist darkened. The mare reached her head down and walked on, smelling at the heather; every time she sniffed, one's heart quivered, hoping she had found the way.
text_transcription: THERE WAS NO SOUND NOT ONE TINY NOISE OF WATER WIND IN TREES OR MEN NOT EVEN OF BIRDS OR THE MOOR PONIES AND THE MISTS DARKENED THE MARE REACHED HER HEAD DOWN AND WALKED ON SMELLING AT THE HEATHER EVERY TIME SHE SNIFFED ONE'S HEART QUIVERED HOPING SHE HAD FOUND THE WAY
phonemes: ðɛɹwˌʌz nˈoʊ sˈaʊnd, nˌɑːt wˈʌn tˈaɪni nˈɔɪz ʌv wˈɔːɾɚ, wˈɪnd ɪn tɹˈiːz, ɔːɹ mˈæn; nˌɑːt ˈiːvən ʌv bˈɜːdz ɔːɹ ðə mˈʊɹ pˈoʊniz. ænd ðə mˈɪst dˈɑːɹkənd. ðə mˈɛɹ ɹˈiːtʃt hɜː hˈɛd dˌaʊn ænd wˈɔːkt ˈɔn, smˈɛlɪŋ æt ðə hˈɛðɚ; ˈɛvɹi tˈaɪm ʃiː snˈɪft, wˈʌnz hˈɑːɹt kwˈɪvɚd, hˈoʊpɪŋ ʃiː hæd fˈaʊnd ðə wˈeɪ.