More and more sadly, day by day,
I miss thy gentle loving tone,
And long to soar far, far away,
To meet once more my loved, my own.
I sit to-night with tearful eye
Fixed on that star in yonder sky;
But oh, it shines on me alone!
For she who watched its pale soft beam
With me, has gone like some bright dream.

I sometimes take my lute to sing
The simple songs we loved so well;
But when I touch each quivering string,
Sad, mournful sounds arise and swell;
For she whose presence could inspire
My heart with such poetic fire
Has kissed her last, her sad farewell
Upon my cheek, and left me here
To shed alone the silent tear.

I take my books; but bard and sage
Have half their beauty lost for me,
And tears fall fast upon the page
That I so oft have read with thee.
And then I throw those books aside,
While faster still the tear drops glide,
That by my side thou canst not be.
Poor heart, be still, nor sigh in vain
For joys that may not come again!

Where, where art thou? Oh, well I know
What joy my presence would impart!
What rapture in thine eye would glow
To clasp me to thy loving heart!
For in that noble heart of thine
Beats the same love that throbs in mine;
Nor time shall bid that love depart.
Meet me in Heaven! my heart's warm prayer,
I _love thee here_--I'll _love thee there_!

THE JUDGE; A DRAMA OF AMERICAN LIFE.

BY MRS. SARAH J. HALE.

(Concluded from page 245.)

ACT V.

SCENE I.--_Rose Hill. The garden before_ PROF.
OLNEY'S _house_. YOUNG HENRY BOLTON _and_
ISABELLE; _she is weeping_. TIME _morning_.

HENRY BOLTON (_aside_).

I cannot leave her in this agony,
(_looks at his watch_,)
And yet the hour is nearly out. O Time!
Turn back thy sands! take months from out my life
For moments spared me now. I cannot leave her.
(_To her._) Dear Isabelle, be comforted; I'll go
And tell my father this sad tale you've told me.
Fear not; he has a soul of nobleness--
He will consent; and, when you are my wife,
You