text_original: The beaver builds No longer by these streams, but far away, On waters whose blue surface ne'er gave back The white man's face  among Missouri's springs, And pools whose issues swell the Oregan, He rears his little Venice. In these plains The bison feeds no more.
text_transcription: THE BEAVER BUILDS NO LONGER BY THESE STREAMS BUT FAR AWAY ON WATERS WHOSE BLUE SURFACE NEVER GAVE BACK THE WHITE MAN'S FACE AMONG MISSOURI SPRINGS AND POOLS WHOSE ISSUE SWELL THE OREGON HE REARS HIS LITTLE VENICE IN THESE PLAINS THE BISON FEEDS NO MORE
phonemes: ðə bˈiːvɚ bˈɪldz nˌoʊ lˈɑːŋɡɚ baɪ ðiːz stɹˈiːmz, bˌʌt fˈɑːɹ ɐwˈeɪ, ˌɔn wˈɔːɾɚz hˌuːz blˈuː sˈɜːfɪs nˈɛɹ ɡˈeɪv bˈæk ðə wˈaɪt mˈænz fˈeɪs ɐmˌʌŋ mɪzˈʊɹɹiz spɹˈɪŋz, ænd pˈuːlz hˌuːz ˈɪʃuːz swˈɛl ðɪ ˈɔːɹɡən, hiː ɹˈɪɹz hɪz lˈɪɾəl vˈɛnɪs. ɪn ðiːz plˈeɪnz ðə bˈaɪsən fˈiːdz nˈoʊmˌɔːɹ.