text_original: ANDREW M iRVELt 102 POEMti OF XATURE. JUNE. I gazed upon the glorious sky, And the green mountains round, And thought that when I came to lie At rest within the ground, 'T were pleasant that in flowery June, When brooks send up a cheerful tune, And groves a cheerful sound, The sextoms hand, my grave to make, The rich, green mountain turf should break.
text_transcription: DREADFULLY PREVOKES DOT ORK BY SONYA JUNE I GAZED UPON THE GLORIOUS SKY AND THE GREEN MOUNTAINS ROUND AND THOUGHT THAT WHEN I CAME TO LIE AT REST WITHIN THE GROUND TWERE PLEASANT THAT IN FLOWERY JUNE WHEN BROOKS SEND UP A CHEERFUL TUNE AND GROVES A CHEERFUL SOUND THE SEXTON'S HAND MY GRAVE TO MAKE THE RICH GREEN MOUNTAIN TURF SHOULD BREAK
phonemes: ˈændɹuː ˈɛm ˈaɪ ˈɑːɹvˈɛlt wˈʌnhˈʌndɹɪd tˈuː pˈoʊ ˌɛmtˌiːˈaɪ ʌv zˈætʃɚ. dʒˈuːn. aɪ ɡˈeɪzd əpˌɑːn ðə ɡlˈɔːɹiəs skˈaɪ, ænd ðə ɡɹˈiːn mˈaʊntɪnz ɹˈaʊnd, ænd θˈɔːt ðæt wɛn aɪ kˈeɪm tə lˈaɪ æt ɹˈɛst wɪðˌɪn ðə ɡɹˈaʊnd, tˈiː wɜː plˈɛzənt ðæt ɪn flˈaʊɚɹi dʒˈuːn, wˌɛn bɹˈʊks sˈɛnd ˌʌp ɐ tʃˈɪɹfəl tˈuːn, ænd ɡɹˈoʊvz ɐ tʃˈɪɹfəl sˈaʊnd, ðə sˈɛkstəmz hˈænd, maɪ ɡɹˈeɪv tə mˈeɪk, ðə ɹˈɪtʃ, ɡɹˈiːn mˈaʊntɪn tˈɜːf ʃˌʊd bɹˈeɪk.