text_original: They are not dead who, folded fair In the kind Shepherd's steadfast care, Await our coming in sure faith, When we shall see them as they are, Made yet more beautiful by death. 144 LIVING OR DEAD But they are dead whose love has grown To be the ghost of love alone, Who meet us with averted eyes, And air constrained and altered tone, And chill and alien courtesies.
text_transcription: THEY ARE NOT DEAD WHO FOLDED FAIR IN THE KIND SHEPHERD'S STEADFAST CARE AWAIT OUR COMING IN SURE FAITH WHEN WE SHALL SEE THEM AS THEY ARE MADE YET MORE BEAUTIFUL BY DEATH BUT THEY ARE DEAD WHOSE LOVE HAS GROWN TO BE THE GHOST OF LOVE ALONE WHO MEET US WITH AVERTED EYES AND AIR CONSTRAINED AND ALTERED TONE AND CHILL AND ALIEN COURTESIES
phonemes: ðeɪ ɑːɹ nˌɑːt dˈɛd hˈuː, fˈoʊldᵻd fˈɛɹ ɪnðə kˈaɪnd ʃˈɛpɚdz stˈɛdfæst kˈɛɹ, ɐwˈeɪt ˌaʊɚ kˈʌmɪŋ ɪn ʃˈʊɹ fˈeɪθ, wˌɛn wiːʃˌɐl sˈiː ðˌɛm æz ðeɪ ɑːɹ, mˌeɪd jˈɛt mˈɔːɹ bjˈuːɾifəl baɪ dˈɛθ. wˈʌnhˈʌndɹɪd fˈɔːɹɾi fˈɔːɹ lˈɪvɪŋ ɔːɹ dˈɛd bˌʌt ðeɪ ɑːɹ dˈɛd hˌuːz lˈʌv hɐz ɡɹˈoʊn təbi ðə ɡˈoʊst ʌv lˈʌv ɐlˈoʊn, hˌuː mˈiːt ˌʌs wɪð ɐvˈɜːɾᵻd ˈaɪz, ænd ˈɛɹ kənstɹˈeɪnd ænd ˈɔltɚd tˈoʊn, ænd tʃˈɪl ænd ˈeɪliən kˈɜːɾəsiz.