text_original: Straightway Godmar's head, As though it hung on strong wires, turn'd Most sharply round, and his face burn'd. For Robert, both his eyes were dry, He could not weep, but gloomily He seem'd to watch the rain; yea, too, His lips were firm; he tried once more To touch her lips; she reached out, sore And vain desire so tortured them, The poor grey lips, and now the hem Of his sleeve brush'd them.
text_transcription: STRAIGHTWAY GODMA'S HEAD AS THOUGH IT HUNG ON STRONG WIRES TURNED MOST SHARPLY ROUND AND HIS FACE BURNED FOR ROBERT BOTH HIS EYES WERE DRY HE COULD NOT WEEP BUT GLOOMILY HE SEEMED TO WATCH THE RAIN YEA TOO HIS LIPS WERE FIRM HE TRIED ONCE MORE TO TOUCH HER LIPS SHE REACHED OUT SORE AND VAIN DESIRE SO TORTURED THEM THE POOR GREY LIPS AND NOW THE HEM OF HIS SLEEVE BRUSHED THEM
phonemes: stɹˈeɪtweɪ ɡˈɑːdmɚz hˈɛd, æz ðˌoʊ ɪt hˈʌŋ ˌɔn stɹˈɔŋ wˈaɪɚz, tˈɜːnd mˈoʊst ʃˈɑːɹpli ɹˈaʊnd, ænd hɪz fˈeɪs bˈɜːnd. fɔːɹ ɹˈɑːbɚt, bˈoʊθ hɪz ˈaɪz wɜː dɹˈaɪ, hiː kʊd nˌɑːt wˈiːp, bˌʌt ɡlˈuːmili hiː sˈiːmd tə wˈɑːtʃ ðə ɹˈeɪn; jˈeɪ, tˈuː, hɪz lˈɪps wɜː fˈɜːm; hiː tɹˈaɪd wˈʌns mˈɔːɹ tə tˈʌtʃ hɜː lˈɪps; ʃiː ɹˈiːtʃt ˈaʊt, sˈɔːɹ ænd vˈeɪn dɪzˈaɪɚ sˌoʊ tˈɔːɹtʃɚd ðˌɛm, ðə pˈʊɹ ɡɹˈeɪ lˈɪps, ænd nˈaʊ ðə hˈɛm ʌv hɪz slˈiːv bɹˈʌʃd ðˌɛm.