text_original: She lifted up the beggar's cloak he wore   The one thing living he would not kill   And on those lips of his that sang no more, That world loathed head which she found lovely still, Her cold lips closed, in death she had her will.
text_transcription: SHE LIFTED UP THE BEGGAR'S CLOAK HE WORE THE ONE THING LIVING HE WOULD NOT KILL AND ON THOSE LIPS OF HIS THAT SANG NO MORE THAT WORLD LOATHED HEAD WHICH SHE FOUND LOVELY STILL HER COLD LIPS CLOSED IN DEATH SHE HAD HER WILL
phonemes: ʃiː lˈɪftᵻd ˌʌp ðə bˈɛɡɚz klˈoʊk hiː wˈɔːɹ ðə wˈʌn θˈɪŋ lˈɪvɪŋ hiː wʊd nˌɑːt kˈɪl ænd ˌɔn ðoʊz lˈɪps ʌv hɪz ðæt sˈæŋ nˈoʊmˌɔːɹ, ðæt wˈɜːld lˈoʊðd hˈɛd wˌɪtʃ ʃiː fˈaʊnd lˈʌvli stˈɪl, hɜː kˈoʊld lˈɪps klˈoʊzd, ɪn dˈɛθ ʃiː hæd hɜː wˈɪl.