text_original: how more bitter is this weeping, Than for those lost ones who are sleeping Where sun will shine and flowers blow, Where gentle winds will whisper low, And the stars have them in their keeping!
text_transcription: H HOW MORE BITTER IS THIS WEEPING THAN FOR THOSE LOST ONES WHO ARE SLEEPING WHERE SUN WILL SHINE AND FLOWERS BLOW WHERE GENTLE WINDS WILL WHISPER LOW AND THE STARS HAVE THEM IN THEIR KEEPING
phonemes: hˌaʊ mˈɔːɹ bˈɪɾɚɹ ɪz ðɪs wˈiːpɪŋ, ðɐn fɔːɹ ðoʊz lˈɔst wˈʌnz hˌuː ɑːɹ slˈiːpɪŋ wˌɛɹ sˈʌn wɪl ʃˈaɪn ænd flˈaʊɚz blˈoʊ, wˌɛɹ dʒˈɛntəl wˈɪndz wɪl wˈɪspɚ lˈoʊ, ænd ðə stˈɑːɹz hæv ðˌɛm ɪn ðɛɹ kˈiːpɪŋ!