text_original: Her thin white locks the dew fall , Of every clime has wet — In palace and in hovel She seeks Messiah yet ! In every child she fancies The Hidden One may be, On each bright head she gazes The mystic crown to see.
text_transcription: HER THIN WHITE LOCKS THE DEWFALL OF EVERY CLIME HAS SWEAT IN PALACE AND IN HOVEL SHE SEEKS MESSIAH YET IN EVERY CHILD SHE FANCIES THE HIDDEN ONE MAY BE ON EACH BRIGHT HEAD SHE GAZES THE MYSTIC CROWN TO SEE
phonemes: hɜː θˈɪn wˈaɪt lˈɑːks ðə dˈuː fˈɔːl , ʌv ˈɛvɹi klˈaɪm hɐz wˈɛt — ɪn pˈælɪs ænd ɪn hˈɑːvəl ʃiː sˈiːks mɛsˈaɪə jˈɛt ! ɪn ˈɛvɹi tʃˈaɪld ʃiː fˈænsiz ðə hˈɪdən wˈʌn mˈeɪ bˈiː, ˌɔn ˈiːtʃ bɹˈaɪt hˈɛd ʃiː ɡˈeɪzᵻz ðə mˈɪstɪk kɹˈaʊn tə sˈiː.