text_original: Too soon art thou clad in white, my spouse: Who placed that garland above thy heart Which shall wreathe to morrow thy bridal brows? How quiet and mute and strange thou art! And hearest thou not my voice that speaks? And feelest thou not my hot tears flow As I kiss thine eyes and thy lips and thy cheeks? Do they not warm thee, my bride of snow?
text_transcription: TOO SOON ART THOU CLAD IN WHITE MY SPOUSE WHO PLACE THAT GARLAND ABOVE THY HEART WHICH SHALL WREATH TO MORROW THY BRIDAL BROWS HOW QUIET AND MUTE AND STRANGE THOU ART AND HEAREST THOU NOT MY VOICE THAT SPEAKS AND FEELEST THOU NOT MY HOT TEARS FLOW AS I KISS THINE EYES AND THY LIPS AND THY CHEEKS DO THEY NOT WARM THEE MY BRIDE OF SNOW
phonemes: tˈuː sˈuːn ˈɑːɹt ðˈaʊ klˈæd ɪn wˈaɪt, maɪ spˈaʊs: hˌuː plˈeɪst ðæt ɡˈɑːɹlənd əbˌʌv ðˌaɪ hˈɑːɹt wˌɪtʃ ʃˌæl ɹˈiːð tə mˈɑːɹoʊ ðˌaɪ bɹˈaɪdəl bɹˈaʊz? hˌaʊ kwˈaɪət ænd mjˈuːt ænd stɹˈeɪndʒ ðˈaʊ ˈɑːɹt! ænd hˈɪɹɪst ðˈaʊ nˌɑːt maɪ vˈɔɪs ðæt spˈiːks? ænd fˈiːlɪst ðˈaʊ nˌɑːt maɪ hˈɑːt tˈɪɹz flˈoʊ æz aɪ kˈɪs ðaɪn ˈaɪz ænd ðˌaɪ lˈɪps ænd ðˌaɪ tʃˈiːks? dˈuː ðeɪ nˌɑːt wˈɔːɹm ðˈiː, maɪ bɹˈaɪd ʌv snˈoʊ?