text_original: Storm rocked for many centuries, it had grown One with the hills, the river and the sod ; Yet young it was, with largess of red gold For every autumn, and from stores unknown Bringing each springtime treasure trove to God.
text_transcription: STORM ROCKED FOR MANY CENTURIES IT HAD GROWN ONE WITH THE HILLS THE RIVER AND THE SOD YET YOUNG IT WAS WITH LARGESTS OF RED GOLD FOR EVERY AUTUMN AND FROM STORES UNKNOWN BRINGING EACH SPRINGTIME TREASURE TROVE TO GOD
phonemes: stˈɔːɹm ɹˈɑːkt fɔːɹ mˈɛni sˈɛntʃɚɹiz, ɪt hæd ɡɹˈoʊn wˈʌn wɪððə hˈɪlz, ðə ɹˈɪvɚ ænd ðə sˈɑːd ; jˈɛt jˈʌŋ ɪt wˈʌz, wɪð lˈɑːɹdʒɛs ʌv ɹˈɛd ɡˈoʊld fɔːɹ ˈɛvɹi ˈɔːɾʌm, ænd fɹʌm stˈɔːɹz ʌnnˈoʊn bɹˈɪŋɪŋ ˈiːtʃ spɹˈɪŋtaɪm tɹˈɛʒɚ tɹˈoʊv tə ɡˈɑːd.