text_original: While if our dear and living dead, With soft, still smiles and noiseless tread, Should come, some day, to the old place, There would not be a thought of dread In their first rapture of embrace
text_transcription: WHILE IF OUR DEAR AND LIVING DEAD WITH SOFT STILL SMILES AND NOISELESS TREAD SHOULD COME SOME DAY TO THE OLD PLACE THERE WOULD NOT BE A THOUGHT OF DREAD IN THEIR FIRST RAPTURE OF EMBRACE
phonemes: wˌaɪl ɪf ˌaʊɚ dˈɪɹ ænd lˈɪvɪŋ dˈɛd, wɪð sˈɔft, stˈɪl smˈaɪlz ænd nˈɔɪzləs tɹˈɛd, ʃˌʊd kˈʌm, sˌʌm dˈeɪ, tə ðɪ ˈoʊld plˈeɪs, ðɛɹ wʊd nˌɑːt biː ɐ θˈɔːt ʌv dɹˈɛd ɪn ðɛɹ fˈɜːst ɹˈæptʃɚɹ ʌv ɛmbɹˈeɪs