text_original: Ah, heaven, she does! her sick heart, sick and dying, Beyond the aid of human skill to save, In that cold room her breast is hourly lying, And her grim thoughts crowd near to dig its grave.
text_transcription: AH HEAVEN SHE DOES HER SICK HEART SICK AND DYING BEYOND THE AID OF HUMAN SKILL TO SAVE IN THAT COLD ROOM HER BREAST IS HOURLY LYING AND HER GRIM THOUGHTS CROWD NEAR TO DIG ITS GRAVE
phonemes: ˈɑː, hˈɛvən, ʃiː dˈʌz! hɜː sˈɪk hˈɑːɹt, sˈɪk ænd dˈaɪɪŋ, bᵻjˌɔnd ðɪ ˈeɪd ʌv hjˈuːmən skˈɪl tə sˈeɪv, ɪn ðæt kˈoʊld ɹˈuːm hɜː bɹˈɛst ɪz ˈaʊɚli lˈaɪɪŋ, ænd hɜː ɡɹˈɪm θˈɔːts kɹˈaʊd nˌɪɹ tə dˈɪɡ ɪts ɡɹˈeɪv.