text_original: "Did hunger for another home and love Gnaw at your heart? If so, you bore the pain. Habit s erasure, and the secret moth In memory s dim arras, all that fight Against the silent tenure of our dead, They wrought in vain. So now you slumber too And are yourself a mystery. The year, The month, the day, the hour, the minute came. Ah! John Devore! was there a meeting then?"
text_transcription: DID HUNGER FOR ANOTHER HOME AND LOVE GNAW AT YOUR HEART IF SO YOU BORE THE PAIN HABIT'S ERASURE AND THE SECRET MOTH IN MEMORY'S DIM ARRAS ALL THAT FIGHT AGAINST THE SILENT TENURE OF OUR DEAD THEY WROUGHT IN VAIN SO NOW YOU SLUMBER TOO AND ARE YOURSELF A MYSTERY THE YEAR THE MONTH THE DAY THE HOUR THE MINUTE CAME AH JOHN DE VOR WAS THERE A MEETING THEN
phonemes: "dˈɪd hˈʌŋɡɚ fɔːɹ ɐnˈʌðɚ hˈoʊm ænd lˈʌv nˈɔː æt jʊɹ hˈɑːɹt? ɪf sˈoʊ, juː bˈɔːɹ ðə pˈeɪn. hˈæbɪt ˈɛs ɪɹˈeɪʒɚ, ænd ðə sˈiːkɹᵻt mˈɑːθ ɪn mˈɛmɚɹi ˈɛs dˈɪm ɚɹˈæz, ˈɔːl ðæt fˈaɪt ɐɡˈɛnst ðə sˈaɪlənt tˈɛnjɚɹ ʌv ˌaʊɚ dˈɛd, ðeɪ ɹˈɔːt ɪn vˈeɪn. sˌoʊ nˈaʊ juː slˈʌmbɚ tˈuː ænd ɑːɹ jɔːɹsˈɛlf ɐ mˈɪstɚɹi. ðə jˈɪɹ, ðə mˈʌnθ, ðə dˈeɪ, ðɪ ˈaʊɚ, ðə mˈɪnɪt kˈeɪm. ˈɑː! dʒˈɑːn dɪvˈɔːɹ! wʌz ðɛɹ ɐ mˈiːɾɪŋ ðˈɛn?"