text_original: It was the weak and broken men and women of that over run land that filled her heart. And how lovely she had grown under pity and labor for others. He had stepped into a church one night, the first winter of the war, where she was telling the story of Belgium.
text_transcription: IT WAS THE WEAK AND BROKEN MEN AND WOMEN OF THAT OVERRUN LAND THAT FILLED HER HEART AND HOW LOVELY SHE HAD GROWN UNDER PITY AND LABOR FOR OTHERS HE HAD STEPPED INTO A CHURCH ONE NIGHT THE FIRST WINTER OF THE WAR WHERE SHE WAS TELLING THE STORY OF BELGIUM
phonemes: ɪt wʌzðə wˈiːk ænd bɹˈoʊkən mˈɛn ænd wˈɪmɪn ʌv ðæt ˌoʊvɚ ɹˈʌn lˈænd ðæt fˈɪld hɜː hˈɑːɹt. ænd hˌaʊ lˈʌvli ʃiː hæd ɡɹˈoʊn ˌʌndɚ pˈɪɾi ænd lˈeɪbɚ fɔːɹ ˈʌðɚz. hiː hæd stˈɛpt ˌɪntʊ ɐ tʃˈɜːtʃ wˈʌn nˈaɪt, ðə fˈɜːst wˈɪntɚɹ ʌvðə wˈɔːɹ, wˌɛɹ ʃiː wʌz tˈɛlɪŋ ðə stˈɔːɹi ʌv bˈɛldʒəm.