Elizabeth T. Corbett

“ Just name him Silas. I'll give him that hundred-acre lot.
I'll make out the deed to-morrer ; an' then, when I've gone to my rest,
There'll be a trifle o' money to help him feather his nest."
But the worst of all was mother. She says, so meek an’ mild,—
"I'd love to call him Jotham, after my oldest child;
He died on his second birthday. The others are grown-up men,
But Jotham is still my baby: he has never grown since then.
His hair was soft and curlin', eyes blue as blue could be,
An' this boy of yours, Semanthy, jest brings him back to me." ”