text_original: To night, in that silent hour, it was only of the dead Vera thought, as she wandered from room to room in the house of fear, shrinking from the prospect of the long, sleepless hours, weary yet restless.
text_transcription: TO NIGHT IN THAT SILENT HOUR IT WAS ONLY OF THE DEAD VERA THOUGHT AS SHE WANDERED FROM ROOM TO ROOM IN THE HOUSE OF FEAR SHRINKING FROM THE PROSPECT OF THE LONG SLEEPLESS HOURS WEARY YET RESTLESS
phonemes: tə nˈaɪt, ɪn ðæt sˈaɪlənt ˈaʊɚ, ɪt wʌz ˈoʊnli ʌvðə dˈɛd vˈiəɹə θˈɔːt, æz ʃiː wˈɔndɚd fɹʌm ɹˈuːm tə ɹˈuːm ɪnðə hˈaʊs ʌv fˈɪɹ, ʃɹˈɪŋkɪŋ fɹʌmðə pɹˈɑːspɛkt ʌvðə lˈɔŋ, slˈiːpləs ˈaʊɚz, wˈɪɹi jˈɛt ɹˈɛstləs.