text_original: Yes! here, alone, of sheer old age I die; for hunger slays not all. I hoped my misery's closing page To fold within some hospital; But crowded thick is each retreat, Such numbers now in misery lie. Alas!
text_transcription: YES HERE ALONE OF SHEER OLD AGE I'D DIE FOR HUNGER SLAYS NOT ALL I HOPED MY MISERY IS CLOSING PAGE TO FOLD WITHIN SOME HOSPITAL BUT CROWDED SICK IS EACH RETREAT SUCH NUMBERS NOW IN MISERY LIE ALAS
phonemes: jˈɛs! hˈɪɹ, ɐlˈoʊn, ʌv ʃˈɪɹ ˈoʊld ˈeɪdʒ aɪ dˈaɪ; fɔːɹ hˈʌŋɡɚ slˈeɪz nˌɑːt ˈɔːl. aɪ hˈoʊpt maɪ mˈɪzɚɹiz klˈoʊzɪŋ pˈeɪdʒ tə fˈoʊld wɪðˌɪn sˌʌm hˈɑːspɪɾəl; bˌʌt kɹˈaʊdᵻd θˈɪk ɪz ˈiːtʃ ɹᵻtɹˈiːt, sˈʌtʃ nˈʌmbɚz nˈaʊ ɪn mˈɪzɚɹi lˈaɪ. ɐlˈæs!