text_original: Cecile!" And, wrapping her cloak round her withered form, She crept down the stairs of crumbling stone; Higher and fiercer raged the storm As she bent and plucked the rose  but one Had the tempest spared  and the winds did moan, And she thought that she heard o'er the voice of the storm, "Cecile! Cecile!"
text_transcription: CECIL AND WRAPPING HER CLOAK ROUND HER WITHERED FORM SHE CREPT DOWN THE STAIRS OF CRUMBLING STONE HIGHER AND FIERCER RAGED THE STORM AS SHE BENT AND PLUCKED THE ROSE BUT ONE HAD THE TEMPEST SPARED AND THE WINDS DID MOAN AND SHE THOUGHT SHE HEARD O'ER THE VOICE OF THE STORM CECIL CECIL
phonemes: sˈɛsiːl!" ænd, ɹˈæpɪŋ hɜː klˈoʊk ɹˈaʊnd hɜː wˈɪðɚd fˈɔːɹm, ʃiː kɹˈɛpt dˌaʊn ðə stˈɛɹz ʌv kɹˈʌmblɪŋ stˈoʊn; hˈaɪɚɹ ænd fˈɪɹsɚ ɹˈeɪdʒd ðə stˈɔːɹm æz ʃiː bˈɛnt ænd plˈʌkt ðə ɹˈoʊz bˌʌt wˈʌn hæd ðə tˈɛmpɪst spˈɛɹd ænd ðə wˈɪndz dˈɪd mˈoʊn, ænd ʃiː θˈɔːt ðæt ʃiː hˈɜːd ˈɔːɹ ðə vˈɔɪs ʌvðə stˈɔːɹm, "sˈɛsiːl! sˈɛsiːl!"