Song

Robert Browning

V1 V2 V3 V4 C1 C2 C3 C4 C5 VT CT

1 neɪ bət ju huː du nɒt lʌv hə 4 2 1 1 4 0 3 2 2 8 11

2 ɪz ʃi nɒt pjʊə ɡəʊld mɑɪ ˈmɪs.trəs 4 1 0 3 5 0 4 3 3 8 15

3 həʊldz ɜːθ ɔːt spiːk truːθ əˈbʌv hə 3 0 4 1 6 0 7 0 2 8 15

4 ɔːt lɑɪk ðɪs tres siː ənd ðɪs tres 5 0 2 1 5 0 7 1 3 8 16

5 ənd ðɪs lɑːst ˈfeə.rɪst tres əv ɔːl 5 0 2 1 4 0 7 1 4 8 16

6 səʊ feə siː eər ɑɪ let ɪt fɔːl 2 0 2 4 2 0 4 0 3 8 9

7 bɪˈkɒz ju spend jɔː lɑɪvz ɪn ˈpreɪ.zɪŋ 5 1 1 2 5 0 5 3 4 9 17

8 tʊ preɪz ju sɜːʧ ðə wɑɪd wɜːld ˈəʊ.və 3 1 2 3 4 1 4 0 5 9 14

9 ðen wɑɪ nɒt ˈwɪt.nəs ˈkɑːm.li ˈɡeɪ.zɪŋ 5 1 1 2 4 0 3 5 3 9 15

10 ɪf ɜːθ həʊldz ɔːt spiːk truːθ əˈbʌv hə 4 0 4 1 6 0 8 0 2 9 16

11 əˈbʌv ðɪs tres ənd ðɪs ɑɪ tʌʧ 7 0 0 1 4 1 6 1 1 8 13

12 bət ˈkæn.ɒt preɪz ɑɪ lʌv səʊ mʌʧ 5 0 0 3 5 1 3 2 2 8 13

52 6 19 23 54 3 61 18 34 100 170

Nay but you, who do not love her, Is she not pure gold, my mistress? Holds earth aught — speak truth — above her? Aught like this tress, see, and this tress, And this last fairest tress of all, So fair, see, ere I let it fall? Because, you spend your lives in praising; To praise, you search the wide world over: Then why not witness, calmly gazing, If earth holds aught — speak truth — above her? Above this tress, and this, I touch But cannot praise, I love so much!

reset

vowel
V1: short
V2: neutralized
V3: long
V4: diphthong
vowel groups

consonant
C1: plosive
C2: affricate
C3: fricative
C4: nasal
C5: approximant
consonant groups

		V1	V2	V3	V4	C1	C2	C3	C4	C5	VT	CT
1	neɪ bət ju huː du nɒt lʌv hə	4	2	1	1	4	0	3	2	2	8	11
2	ɪz ʃi nɒt pjʊə ɡəʊld mɑɪ ˈmɪs.trəs	4	1	0	3	5	0	4	3	3	8	15
3	həʊldz ɜːθ ɔːt spiːk truːθ əˈbʌv hə	3	0	4	1	6	0	7	0	2	8	15
4	ɔːt lɑɪk ðɪs tres siː ənd ðɪs tres	5	0	2	1	5	0	7	1	3	8	16
5	ənd ðɪs lɑːst ˈfeə.rɪst tres əv ɔːl	5	0	2	1	4	0	7	1	4	8	16
6	səʊ feə siː eər ɑɪ let ɪt fɔːl	2	0	2	4	2	0	4	0	3	8	9
7	bɪˈkɒz ju spend jɔː lɑɪvz ɪn ˈpreɪ.zɪŋ	5	1	1	2	5	0	5	3	4	9	17
8	tʊ preɪz ju sɜːʧ ðə wɑɪd wɜːld ˈəʊ.və	3	1	2	3	4	1	4	0	5	9	14
9	ðen wɑɪ nɒt ˈwɪt.nəs ˈkɑːm.li ˈɡeɪ.zɪŋ	5	1	1	2	4	0	3	5	3	9	15
10	ɪf ɜːθ həʊldz ɔːt spiːk truːθ əˈbʌv hə	4	0	4	1	6	0	8	0	2	9	16
11	əˈbʌv ðɪs tres ənd ðɪs ɑɪ tʌʧ	7	0	0	1	4	1	6	1	1	8	13
12	bət ˈkæn.ɒt preɪz ɑɪ lʌv səʊ mʌʧ	5	0	0	3	5	1	3	2	2	8	13
		52	6	19	23	54	3	61	18	34	100	170
	Nay but you, who do not love her, Is she not pure gold, my mistress? Holds earth aught — speak truth — above her? Aught like this tress, see, and this tress, And this last fairest tress of all, So fair, see, ere I let it fall? Because, you spend your lives in praising; To praise, you search the wide world over: Then why not witness, calmly gazing, If earth holds aught — speak truth — above her? Above this tress, and this, I touch But cannot praise, I love so much!