It links more closely heart to heart.
Yes! and they ever linked shall be—
“Summer, oh! tell me, where is he?”
I hear a voice upon the breeze,
It speaks of holier ties than these;
Of worlds, where farewell sounds are o’er,
And Death a victor never more.
It bids me for that clime prepare,
And sweetly whispers, “He is there.”
1828. E. P. K.