text_original: My gossip, the owl, is it thou rhat out of the leaves of the low hanging bough, A.S I pass to the beach, art stirred? Dumb woods, have ye uttered a bird?
text_transcription: MY GOSSIP THE OWL IS IT THOU THAT OUT OF THE LEAVES OF THE LOW HANGING BOUGH AS I PASS TO THE BEACH ART STIRRED DUMB WOODS HAVE YE UTTERED A BIRD
phonemes: maɪ ɡˈɑːsɪp, ðɪ ˈaʊl, ɪz ɪt ðˈaʊ ɹˈæt ˌaʊɾəv ðə lˈiːvz ʌvðə lˈoʊ hˈæŋɪŋ bˈaʊ, ˈeɪ.ˈɛs aɪ pˈæs tə ðə bˈiːtʃ, ˈɑːɹt stˈɜːd? dˈʌm wˈʊdz, hæv jiː ˈʌɾɚd ɐ bˈɜːd?