text_original: VIII. Meanwhile he wasted in the eyes of men, So thin, he seem'd a sort of skeleton key Suspended at death's door  so pale  and then He turn'd as nervous as an aspen tree; The life of man is three score years and ten, But he was perishing at twenty three, For people truly said, as grief grew stronger, "It could not shorten his poor life  much longer."
text_transcription: EIGHT MEANWHILE HE WASTED IN THE EYES OF MAN SO THIN HE SEEMED A SORT OF SKELETON KEY SUSPENDED AT DEATH'S DOOR SO PALE AND THEN HE TURNED AS NERVOUS AS AN ASPEN TREE THE LIFE OF MAN IS THREE SCORE YEARS AND TEN BUT HE WAS PERISHING AT TWENTY THREE FOR PEOPLE TRULY SAID AS GRIEF GREW STRONGER IT COULD NOT SHORTEN HIS POOR LIFE MUCH LONGER
phonemes: ɹˌoʊmən ˈeɪt. mˈiːnwaɪl hiː wˈeɪstᵻd ɪnðɪ ˈaɪz ʌv mˈɛn, sˌoʊ θˈɪn, hiː sˈiːmd ɐ sˈɔːɹt ʌv skˈɛlᵻtən kˈiː səspˈɛndᵻd æt dˈɛθz dˈɔːɹ sˌoʊ pˈeɪl ænd ðˈɛn hiː tˈɜːnd æz nˈɜːvəs æz ɐn ˈæspən tɹˈiː; ðə lˈaɪf ʌv mˈæn ɪz θɹˈiː skˈɔːɹ jˈɪɹz ænd tˈɛn, bˌʌt hiː wʌz pˈɛɹɪʃɪŋ æt twˈɛnti θɹˈiː, fɔːɹ pˈiːpəl tɹˈuːli sˈɛd, æz ɡɹˈiːf ɡɹˈuː stɹˈɔŋɡɚ, "ɪt kʊd nˌɑːt ʃˈɔːɹʔn̩ hɪz pˈʊɹ lˈaɪf mˈʌtʃ lˈɔŋɡɚ."