text_original: Yet the touch was of ice, and she shrank with fear   Oh! the hands of the dead are cold, so cold   And warm were the arms that waited near To gather her close in their clinging fold.
text_transcription: YET THE TOUCH WAS OF ICE AND SHE SHRANK WITH FEAR OH THE HANDS OF THE DEAD ARE COLD SO COLD AND WARM WERE THE ARMS THAT WAITED NEAR TO GATHER HER CLOTHES IN THEIR CLINGING FOLD
phonemes: jˈɛt ðə tˈʌtʃ wʌz ʌv ˈaɪs, ænd ʃiː ʃɹˈæŋk wɪð fˈɪɹ ˈoʊ! ðə hˈændz ʌvðə dˈɛd ɑːɹ kˈoʊld, sˌoʊ kˈoʊld ænd wˈɔːɹm wɜː ðɪ ˈɑːɹmz ðæt wˈeɪɾᵻd nˌɪɹ tə ɡˈæðɚ hɜː klˈoʊs ɪn ðɛɹ klˈɪŋɪŋ fˈoʊld.