text_original: And through the dreadful hours The trees and waters and the hills have kept The sacred vigil while you slept, And lay a way of dew and flowers Where your feet, your morning feet, shall tread. And still the darkness ebbs about your bed.
text_transcription: AND THROUGH THE DREADFUL HOURS THE TREES AND WATERS AND THE HAYS HAVE KEPT THE SACRED VIGIL WHILE YOU SLEPT AND LAY AWAY OF DEW AND FLORENCE WHERE YOU FEED YOUR MOANING FEET SHALL TREAD AND STILL THE DARKNESS EBBS ABOUT YOUR BED
phonemes: ænd θɹuː ðə dɹˈɛdfəl ˈaʊɚz ðə tɹˈiːz ænd wˈɔːɾɚz ænd ðə hˈɪlz hæv kˈɛpt ðə sˈeɪkɹɪd vˈɪdʒɪl wˌaɪl juː slˈɛpt, ænd lˈeɪ ɐ wˈeɪ ʌv dˈuː ænd flˈaʊɚz wˌɛɹ jʊɹ fˈiːt, jʊɹ mˈɔːɹnɪŋ fˈiːt, ʃˌæl tɹˈɛd. ænd stˈɪl ðə dˈɑːɹknəs ˈɛbz ɐbˌaʊt jʊɹ bˈɛd.