text_original: Dead, she drifteth to his feet. Close, her eyes keep secrets sweet. Living, he had loved her well. High as Heaven and deep as Hell. Yet that voyage she stayeth not. Wait you for her, Launcelot? Oh! the river floweth fast. Who is justified at last? Locked her lips are. Hush! If she Sayeth nothing, how should we?
text_transcription: DEAD SHE DRIFTETH TO HIS FEET CLOSE HER EYES KEEP SECRETS SWEET LIVING HE HAD LOVED HER WELL HIGH AS HEAVEN AND DEEP AS HELL YET THAT VOYAGE SHE STAYETH NOT WAIT YOU FOR HER LAUNCELOT O THE RIVER FLOWETH FAST WHO IS JUSTIFIED AT LAST LOCKED HER LIPS ARE HUSH IF SHE SAITH NOTHING HOW SHOULD WE
phonemes: dˈɛd, ʃiː dɹˈɪftəθ tə hɪz fˈiːt. klˈoʊs, hɜːɹ ˈaɪz kˈiːp sˈiːkɹᵻts swˈiːt. lˈɪvɪŋ, hiː hæd lˈʌvd hɜː wˈɛl. hˈaɪ æz hˈɛvən ænd dˈiːp æz hˈɛl. jˈɛt ðæt vˈɔɪɪdʒ ʃiː stˈeɪɛθ nˈɑːt. wˈeɪt juː fɔːɹ hɜː, lˈɔːnsɪlˌɑːt? ˈoʊ! ðə ɹˈɪvɚ flˈoʊəθ fˈæst. hˌuː ɪz dʒˈʌstᵻfˌaɪd æt lˈæst? lˈɑːkt hɜː lˈɪps ɑːɹ. hˈʌʃ! ɪf ʃiː sˈeɪɛθ nˈʌθɪŋ, hˌaʊ ʃˈʊd wiː?