text_original: Yes, wherever the pine wood has never let in, Since the day of creation, the light and the din Of manifold life, but has safely conveyed From the midnight primeval its armful of shade, And has kept the weird Past with its sagas alive Mid the hum and the stir of To day's busy hive, There the legend takes root in the age gathered gloom, And its murmurous boughs for their tossing find room.
text_transcription: YES WHEREVER THE PINE WOOD HAS NEVER LET IN SINCE THE DAY OF CREATION THE LIGHT AND THE DIN OF MANIFOLD LIFE BUT HAS SAFELY CONVEYED FROM THE MIDNIGHT PRIMEVAL ITS ARMFUL OF SHADE AND HAS KEPT THE WEIRD PAST WITH ITS SAGAS ALIVE MID THE HUM AND THE STIR OF TWO DAYS BUSY HIVE THERE THE LEGEND TAKES ROOT IN THE AGE GATHERED GLOOM AND ITS MURMUROUS BOUGHS FOR THEIR TOSSING FIND ROOM
phonemes: jˈɛs, wɛɹˈɛvɚ ðə pˈaɪn wˈʊd hɐz nˈɛvɚ lˈɛt ˈɪn, sˈɪns ðə dˈeɪ ʌv kɹiːˈeɪʃən, ðə lˈaɪt ænd ðə dˈɪn ʌv mˈænɪfˌoʊld lˈaɪf, bˌʌt hɐz sˈeɪfli kənvˈeɪd fɹʌmðə mˈɪdnaɪt pɹaɪmˈiːvəl ɪts ˈɑːɹmfəl ʌv ʃˈeɪd, ænd hɐz kˈɛpt ðə wˈɪɹd pˈæst wɪð ɪts sˈɑːɡəz ɐlˈaɪv mˈɪd ðə hˈʌm ænd ðə stˈɜːɹ ʌv tə dˈeɪz bˈɪzi hˈaɪv, ðɛɹ ðə lˈɛdʒənd tˈeɪks ɹˈuːt ɪnðɪ ˈeɪdʒ ɡˈæðɚd ɡlˈuːm, ænd ɪts mˈɜːmɚɹəs bˈaʊz fɔːɹ ðɛɹ tˈɔsɪŋ fˈaɪnd ɹˈuːm.