text_original: Open now your spirit's eyes, Look through that poor clay disguise Which has thickened, day by day, Till it keeps all light at bay, And his soul in pitchy gloom Gropes about its narrow tomb, From whose dank and slimy walls Drop by drop the horror falls.
text_transcription: OPEN NOW YOUR SPIRITS EYES LOOK THROUGH THAT POOR CLAYEY SKIES WHICH HAS THICKENED DAY BY DAY TILL HE KEEPS ALL LIGHT AT BAY AND HIS SOUL IN PITCHY GLOOM GROPES ABOUT ITS NARROW TOMB FROM WHOSE DANK AND SLIMY WALLS DROP BY DROP THE HORROR FALLS
phonemes: ˈoʊpən nˈaʊ jʊɹ spˈɪɹɪts ˈaɪz, lˈʊk θɹuː ðæt pˈʊɹ klˈeɪ dɪsɡˈaɪz wˌɪtʃ hɐz θˈɪkənd, dˈeɪ baɪ dˈeɪ, tˈɪl ɪt kˈiːps ˈɔːl lˈaɪt æt bˈeɪ, ænd hɪz sˈoʊl ɪn pˈɪtʃi ɡlˈuːm ɡɹˈoʊps ɐbˌaʊt ɪts nˈæɹoʊ tˈuːm, fɹʌm hˌuːz dˈæŋk ænd slˈaɪmi wˈɔːlz dɹˈɑːp baɪ dɹˈɑːp ðə hˈɔɹɚ fˈɔːlz.