text_original: She has dug the grave where the trees gave space, And oh ! that minute sore, — With its last vain look at the sweet proud face And the smile that the lips still wore.
text_transcription: SHE HAS DUG THE GRAVE WHERE THE TREES GAVE SPACE AND OH THAT MINUTE SORE WHEN THE LAST VAIN LOOK AT THE SWEET PROUD FACE AND THE SMILE THAT THE LIPS STILL WORE
phonemes: ʃiː hɐz dˈʌɡ ðə ɡɹˈeɪv wˌɛɹ ðə tɹˈiːz ɡˈeɪv spˈeɪs, ænd ˈoʊ ! ðæt mˈɪnɪt sˈɔːɹ, — wɪð ɪts lˈæst vˈeɪn lˈʊk æt ðə swˈiːt pɹˈaʊd fˈeɪs ænd ðə smˈaɪl ðætðə lˈɪps stˈɪl wˈɔːɹ.