text_original: The mild, the fierce, the stony face— 240 POEMS OF SENTIMENT. Some bright with thoughtless smiles, and some Where secret tears have left their trace. They pass to toil, to strife, to rest — To halls in which the feast is spread — To chambers where the funeral guest In silence sits beside the dead.
text_transcription: THE MILD THE FIERCE THE STONY FACE SOME BRIGHT WITH THOUGHTLESS SMILES AND SOME WHERE SECRET TEARS HAVE LEFT THEIR TRACE THEY PASS TO TOIL TO STRIVE TO REST TO HALLS IN WHICH THE FEAST IS SPREAD TO CHAMBERS WHERE THE FUNERAL GUEST IN SILENCE SITS BESIDE THE DEAD
phonemes: ðə mˈaɪld, ðə fˈɪɹs, ðə stˈoʊni fˈeɪs— tˈuːhˈʌndɹɪd fˈɔːɹɾi pˈoʊᵻmz ʌv sˈɛntɪmənt. sˌʌm bɹˈaɪt wɪð θˈɔːtləs smˈaɪlz, ænd sˌʌm wˌɛɹ sˈiːkɹᵻt tˈɪɹz hæv lˈɛft ðɛɹ tɹˈeɪs. ðeɪ pˈæs tə tˈɔɪl, tə stɹˈaɪf, tə ɹˈɛst — tə hˈɔːlz ɪnwˌɪtʃ ðə fˈiːst ɪz spɹˈɛd — tə tʃˈeɪmbɚz wˌɛɹ ðə fjˈuːnɚɹəl ɡˈɛst ɪn sˈaɪləns sˈɪts bᵻsˌaɪd ðə dˈɛd.