text_original: The patient Night Sits indifferent, hugged in her rags, She neither knows nor cares Why the old church sobs and brags; The light distresses her eyes, and tears Her old blue cloak, as she crouches and covers her face, Smiling, perhaps, if we knew it, at the bells' loud clattering disgrace.
text_transcription: THE PATIENT KNIGHT SITS INDIFFERENT HUGGED IN HER RAGS SHE NEITHER KNOWS NOR CARES WHILE THE OLD CHURCH SOBS AND BRAGS THE LIGHT DISTRESSES HER EYES AND TEARS HER OLD BLUE CLOAK AS SHE CROUCHES AND COVERS HER FACE SMILING PERHAPS IF WE KNEW IT AT THE BELL'S LOUD CLATTERING DISGRACE
phonemes: ðə pˈeɪʃənt nˈaɪt sˈɪts ɪndˈɪfɹənt, hˈʌɡd ɪn hɜː ɹˈæɡz, ʃiː nˈiːðɚ nˈoʊz nˈɔːɹ kˈɛɹz wˌaɪ ðɪ ˈoʊld tʃˈɜːtʃ sˈɑːbz ænd bɹˈæɡz; ðə lˈaɪt dɪstɹˈɛsᵻz hɜːɹ ˈaɪz, ænd tˈɪɹz hɜːɹ ˈoʊld blˈuː klˈoʊk, æz ʃiː kɹˈaʊtʃᵻz ænd kˈʌvɚz hɜː fˈeɪs, smˈaɪlɪŋ, pɚhˈæps, ɪf wiː nˈuː ɪt, æt ðə bˈɛlz lˈaʊd klˈæɾɚɹɪŋ dɪsɡɹˈeɪs.