text_original: The wind strikes bleak Upon the cheek That careth rather to keep warm, (And where 's the harm?) Than to abate One jot of its calm color for your sake. Watch! See! I stir the ember Upon my lonely hearth and bid the fire wake.
text_transcription: THE WIND STRIKES BLEAK UPON THE CHEEK THAT CARETH RATHER TO KEEP WARM AND WEARS THE HARM THAN TO ABATE ONE JOT OF ITS CALM COLOR FOR YOUR SAKE WATCH SEE I STIR THE AMBER UPON MY LONELY HEARTH AND BID THE FIRE WAKE
phonemes: ðə wˈɪnd stɹˈaɪks blˈiːk əpˌɑːn ðə tʃˈiːk ðæt kˈɑːɹɹəθ ɹˈæðɚ tə kˈiːp wˈɔːɹm, (ænd wˌɛɹ ˈɛs ðə hˈɑːɹm?) ðɐn tʊ ɐbˈeɪt wˈʌn dʒˈɑːt ʌv ɪts kˈɑːm kˈʌlɚ fɔːɹ jʊɹ sˈeɪk. wˈɑːtʃ! sˈiː! aɪ stˈɜː ðɪ ˈɛmbɚɹ əpˌɑːn maɪ lˈoʊnli hˈɑːɹθ ænd bˈɪd ðə fˈaɪɚ wˈeɪk.