text_original: One shows the shining, swelling St. Lawrence River and the dead hour of night, and those slowly moving boats of hushed heroes creeping across the waters to where the mighty Quebec hills gloomed hugely out The other is of that quiet church yard in England, 4t Stoke Pogis, near Slough, where pilgrims from many parts of the world still wander through the pleasant Buckinghamshire fields to stand where Gray conceived his Elegy.
text_transcription: ONE SHOWS THE SHINING SWELLING SAINT LAWRENCE RIVER IN THE DEAD HOUR OF NIGHT AND THOSE SLOWLY MOVING BOATS OF HUSHED HEROES CREEPING ACROSS THE WATERS TO WHERE THE MIGHTY QUEBEC HILLS GLOOMED HUGELY OUT THE OTHER IS OF THAT QUIET CHURCHYARD IN ENGLAND AT STOKE POGIS NEAR SLOW WHERE PILGRIMS FROM MANY PARTS OF THE WORLD STILL WANDER THROUGH THE PLEASANT BUCKINGHAMSHIRE FIELDS TO STAND WHERE GRAY CONCEIVED HIS ELEGY
phonemes: wˈʌn ʃˈoʊz ðə ʃˈaɪnɪŋ, swˈɛlɪŋ sənt. lˈɔːɹəns ɹˈɪvɚ ænd ðə dˈɛd ˈaʊɚɹ ʌv nˈaɪt, ænd ðoʊz slˈoʊli mˈuːvɪŋ bˈoʊts ʌv hˈʌʃt hˈiəɹoʊz kɹˈiːpɪŋ əkɹˌɑːs ðə wˈɔːɾɚz tʊ wˌɛɹ ðə mˈaɪɾi kwᵻbˈɛk hˈɪlz ɡlˈuːmd hjˈuːdʒli ˈaʊt ðɪ ˈʌðɚɹ ɪz ʌv ðæt kwˈaɪət tʃˈɜːtʃ jˈɑːɹd ɪn ˈɪŋɡlənd, fˈɔːɹ tˈiː stˈoʊk pˈoʊɡɪz, nˌɪɹ slˈaʊ, wˌɛɹ pˈɪlɡɹɪmz fɹʌm mˈɛni pˈɑːɹts ʌvðə wˈɜːld stˈɪl wˈɔndɚ θɹuː ðə plˈɛzənt bˈʌkɪŋˌæmʃɚ fˈiːldz tə stˈænd wˌɛɹ ɡɹˈeɪ kənsˈiːvd hɪz ˈɛlɪdʒi.