A Poetical Reminiscence.
By J. M. A.
THE readers of the Review will please pardon me for offering the following private correspondence, or poetical reminiscence of Bro. Cottrell, and our response to the same. My only apology is the thought that it may be read with interest by some, at least. On passing by our former residence in Somerset, N. Y., Bro. C. says he fell into the following reflections.
J. M. A. What's this old place to me?
So lone and drear;
Things as they used to be
Do not appear;
The loved ones here of late
Have left it desolate,
Nothing can compensate,
They are not here! There at the Corners, too,
It seems forlorn;
Though still to others' view,
As gay as morn.
There's "Aldrich" on the store,
Just as in days of yore,
But ah! there's one thought more—
Jotham is gone! But yet, though feeling sad,
I'll not despair;
In hope I will be glad,
'Mid toil and care;
Our Saviour soon will come
And saints be gathered home
No more in sadness roam—
I'll meet them there!
R. F. C.