text_original: And so hard is it to distinguish the barrenness of winter from the barrenness of death, that every spring has its seeming miracles. The tree that our impatient hands had well nigh hewn down may be our sweetest shelter in the heat of summer noontide.
text_transcription: AND SO HARD IS IT TO DISTINGUISH THE BARRENNESS OF WINTER FROM THE BARRENNESS OF DEATH THAT EVERY SPRING HAS ITS SEEMING MIRACLES THE TREE THAT OUR IMPATIENT HANDS HAD WELL NIGH HEWN DOWN MAY BE OUR SWEETEST SHELTER IN THE HEAT OF SUMMER NOONTIDE
phonemes: ænd sˌoʊ hˈɑːɹd ɪz ɪt tə dɪstˈɪŋɡwɪʃ ðə bˈæɹənnəs ʌv wˈɪntɚ fɹʌmðə bˈæɹənnəs ʌv dˈɛθ, ðæt ˈɛvɹi spɹˈɪŋ hɐz ɪts sˈiːmɪŋ mˈɪɹəkəlz. ðə tɹˈiː ðæt ˌaʊɚɹ ɪmpˈeɪʃənt hˈændz hæd wˈɛl nˈaɪ hjˈuːn dˌaʊn mˈeɪ biː ˌaʊɚ swˈiːɾɪst ʃˈɛltɚɹ ɪnðə hˈiːt ʌv sˈʌmɚ nˈuːntaɪd.