text_original: They buried him in the same vault that had been opened twenty three years ago to receive the childish, wasted corpses of Elizabeth and Maria  Sunday came round, recalling minute by minute the ebbing of his life, and Emily Bronte, pallid and dressed in black, can scarcely have heard her brother's funeral sermon for looking at the stone which hid so many memories, such useless compassion.
text_transcription: THEY BURIED HIM IN THE SAME VAULT THAT HAD BEEN OPENED TWENTY THREE YEARS AGO TO RECEIVE THE CHILDISH WASTED CORPSES OF ELIZABETH AND MARIA SUNDAY CAME ROUND RECALLING MINUTE BY MINUTE THE EBBING OF HIS LIFE AND EMILY BRONTE PALLID AND DRESSED IN BLACK CAN SCARCELY HAVE HEARD HER BROTHER'S FUNERAL SERMON FOR LOOKING AT THE STONE WHICH HID SO MANY MEMORIES SUCH USELESS COMPASSION
phonemes: ðeɪ bˈɛɹid hˌɪm ɪnðə sˈeɪm vˈɔlt ðæt hɐdbɪn ˈoʊpənd twˈɛnti θɹˈiː jˈɪɹz ɐɡˈoʊ tə ɹᵻsˈiːv ðə tʃˈaɪldɪʃ, wˈeɪstᵻd kˈɔːɹpsᵻz ʌv ᵻlˈɪzəbəθ ænd mɚɹˈiːə sˈʌndeɪ kˈeɪm ɹˈaʊnd, ɹᵻkˈɔːlɪŋ mˈɪnɪt baɪ mˈɪnɪt ðɪ ˈɛbɪŋ ʌv hɪz lˈaɪf, ænd ˈɛmᵻli bɹˈɔnt, pˈælɪd ænd dɹˈɛst ɪn blˈæk, kæn skˈɛɹsli hæv hˈɜːd hɜː bɹˈʌðɚz fjˈuːnɚɹəl sˈɜːmən fɔːɹ lˈʊkɪŋ æt ðə stˈoʊn wˌɪtʃ hˈɪd sˌoʊ mˈɛni mˈɛmɚɹiz, sˈʌtʃ jˈuːsləs kəmpˈæʃən.