Is it so far from thee br Thou canst no longer see, br In the Chamber over the Gate, br That old man desolate, br Weeping and wailing sore br For his son, who is no more? br O Absalom, my son! br br Is it so long ago br That cry of human woe br From the walled city came, br Calling on his dear name, br That it has died away br In the distance of to-day? br O Absalom, my son! br br There is no far or near, br There is neither there nor here, br There is neither soon nor late, br In that Chamber over the Gate, br Nor any long ago br To that cry of human woe, br O Absalom, my son! br br From the ages that are past br The voice sounds like a blast, br Over seas that wreck and drown, br Over tumult of traffic and town; br And from ages yet to be br Come the echoes back to me, br O Absalom, my son! br br Somewhere at every hour br The watchman on the tower br Looks forth, and sees the fleet br Approach of the hurrying feet br Of messengers, that bear br The tidings of despair. br O Absalom, my son! br br He goes forth from the door br Who shall return no more. br With him our joy departs; br The light goes out in our hearts; br In the Chamber over the Gate br We sit disconsolate.