text_original: If there was something lily like in her drooping grace, it was not the queen lily of the garden that she resembled, but the retiring lily of the valley—so purely, transparently white was her skin, scarcely tinted by a roseate blush on the cheek, so tender and modest the whole effect of her slender figure, and the soft, downcast, pensive brown eyes, utterly dissimilar in hue from those of all her friends and kindred, except perhaps the bright, quick ones of her uncle, the master carver.
text_transcription: IF THERE WAS SOMETHING LILY LIKE IN HER DROOPING GRACE IT WAS NOT THE QUEEN LILY OF THE GARDEN THAT SHE RESEMBLED BUT THE RETIRING LILY OF THE VALLEY SO PURELY TRANSPARENTLY WHITE WAS HER SKIN SCARCELY TINTED BY A ROSET BLUSH ON THE CHEEK SO TENDER AND MODEST THE WHOLE EFFECT OF HER SLENDER FIGURE AND THE SOFT DOWNCAST PENSIVE BROWN EYES UTTERLY DISSIMILAR IN HUE FROM THOSE OF ALL HER FRIENDS AND KINDRED EXCEPT PERHAPS THE BRIGHT QUICK ONES OF HER UNCLE THE MASTER CARVER
phonemes: ɪf ðɛɹwˌʌz sˈʌmθɪŋ lˈɪli lˈaɪk ɪn hɜː dɹˈuːpɪŋ ɡɹˈeɪs, ɪt wʌz nˌɑːt ðə kwˈiːn lˈɪli ʌvðə ɡˈɑːɹdən ðæt ʃiː ɹᵻzˈɛmbəld, bˌʌt ðə ɹᵻtˈaɪɚɹɪŋ lˈɪli ʌvðə vˈæli—sˌoʊ pjˈʊɹli, tɹænspˈæɹəntli wˈaɪt wʌz hɜː skˈɪn, skˈɛɹsli tˈɪntᵻd baɪ ɐ ɹˈoʊzeɪt blˈʌʃ ɔnðə tʃˈiːk, sˌoʊ tˈɛndɚ ænd mˈɑːdɪst ðə hˈoʊl ɪfˈɛkt ʌv hɜː slˈɛndɚ fˈɪɡjɚ, ænd ðə sˈɔft, dˈaʊŋkæst, pˈɛnsɪv bɹˈaʊn ˈaɪz, ˈʌɾɚli dɪsˈɪmɪlɚɹ ɪn hjˈuː fɹʌm ðoʊz ʌv ˈɔːl hɜː fɹˈɛndz ænd kˈɪndɹɪd, ɛksˈɛpt pɚhˈæps ðə bɹˈaɪt, kwˈɪk wˈʌnz ʌv hɜːɹ ˈʌŋkəl, ðə mˈæstɚ kˈɑːɹvɚ.