text_original: Then quietly I would slip out of the house to look at my beloved pond, and forget myself in contemplation. Here and there a fisherman's bundle of brushwood would be burning at the water's edge, and sending its light far and wide over the surface.
text_transcription: THEN QUIETLY I WOULD SLIP OUT OF THE HOUSE TO LOOK AT MY BELOVED POND AND FORGET MYSELF IN CONTEMPLATION HERE AND THERE A FISHERMAN'S BUNDLE OF BRUSHWOOD WOULD BE BURNING AT THE WATER'S EDGE AND SENDING ITS LIGHT FAR AND WIDE OVER THE SURFACE
phonemes: ðˈɛn kwˈaɪətli aɪ wʊd slˈɪp ˌaʊɾəv ðə hˈaʊs tə lˈʊk æt maɪ bᵻlˈʌvd pˈɑːnd, ænd fɚɡˈɛt maɪsˈɛlf ɪn kˌɑːntəmplˈeɪʃən. hˈɪɹ ɐnd ðˈɛɹ ɐ fˈɪʃɚmənz bˈʌndəl ʌv bɹˈʌʃwʊd wʊd biː bˈɜːnɪŋ æt ðə wˈɔːɾɚz ˈɛdʒ, ænd sˈɛndɪŋ ɪts lˈaɪt fˈɑːɹ ænd wˈaɪd ˌoʊvɚ ðə sˈɜːfɪs.