text_original: Beneath, in the churchyard, lay the dead, In their night encampment on the hill, Wrapped in silence so deep and still That he could hear, like a sentinel's tread, The watchful night wind, as it went Creeping along from tent to tent, And seeming to whisper, "All is well!"
text_transcription: BENEATH IN THE CHURCHYARD LAY THE DEAD IN THEIR NIGHT ENCAMPMENT ON THE HILL WRAPPED IN SILENCE SO DEEP AND STILL THAT HE COULD HEAR LIKE HIS SENTINELS TREAD THE WATCHFUL NIGHT WIND AS IT WENT CREEPING ALONG FROM TENT TO TENT AND SEEMING TO WHISPER ALL IS WELL
phonemes: bᵻnˈiːθ, ɪnðə tʃˈɜːtʃjɑːɹd, lˈeɪ ðə dˈɛd, ɪn ðɛɹ nˈaɪt ɛŋkˈæmpmənt ɔnðə hˈɪl, ɹˈæpt ɪn sˈaɪləns sˌoʊ dˈiːp ænd stˈɪl ðæt hiː kʊd hˈɪɹ, lˈaɪk ɐ sˈɛntɪnəlz tɹˈɛd, ðə wˈɑːtʃfəl nˈaɪt wˈɪnd, æz ɪt wɛnt kɹˈiːpɪŋ ɐlˈɔŋ fɹʌm tˈɛnt tə tˈɛnt, ænd sˈiːmɪŋ tə wˈɪspɚ, "ˈɔːl ɪz wˈɛl!"