text_original: There might you hear her kindle her soft voice In the close murmur of a sparkling noise; And lay the groundwork of her hopeful song. Still keeping in the forward stream so long, Till a sweet whirlwind (striving to get out) Heaves her soft bosom, wanders round about, 308 POEMS OF NATURE.
text_transcription: THERE MIGHT YOU HEAR HER KINDLE HER SOFT VOICE IN THE CLOSE MURMUR OF A SPARKLING NOISE AND LAY THE GROUNDWORK OF HER HOPEFUL SONG STILL KEEPING IN THE FORWARD STREAM SO LONG TILL A SWEET WHIRLWIND STRIVING TO GET OUT HEAVES HER SOFT BOSOM WANDERS ROUND ABOUT
phonemes: ðɛɹ mˌaɪt juː hˈɪɹ hɜː kˈɪndəl hɜː sˈɔft vˈɔɪs ɪnðə klˈoʊs mˈɜːmɚɹ əvə spˈɑːɹklɪŋ nˈɔɪz; ænd lˈeɪ ðə ɡɹˈaʊndwɜːk ʌv hɜː hˈoʊpfəl sˈɔŋ. stˈɪl kˈiːpɪŋ ɪnðə fˈɔːɹwɚd stɹˈiːm sˌoʊ lˈɔŋ, tˈɪl ɐ swˈiːt wˈɜːlwɪnd (stɹˈaɪvɪŋ tə ɡɛt ˈaʊt) hˈiːvz hɜː sˈɔft bˈʊzəm, wˈɔndɚz ɹˈaʊnd ɐbˈaʊt, θɹˈiːhˈʌndɹɪd ˈeɪt pˈoʊᵻmz ʌv nˈeɪtʃɚ.