with much that was healthy and amiable in addition, and he touched
Nature with peculiar freshness and genuineness.

In a poem to his brother, about the Saale valley near Halle, he
wrote:

Lie down in early spring on yon green moss,
By yon still brook where heart with heart we spoke,
My brother....
Will't see the little garden and the pleasant heights above,
So quiet and unspoilt? O friend, 'tis Nature speaks
In distant wood, near plain and careless glade,
Here on my little hill and in the clover....
Dost hear the rustle of the streamlet through the wood?

Jacobi was one whose heart, as he said of Gleim, took a warm interest
in all that breathed, even a violet, and sought sympathy and
companionship in the whole range of creation.

This is from his _Morning Song_:

See how the wood awakes, how from the lighted heights
With the soft waving breeze
The morning glory smiles in the fresh green....
Here by the rippling brook and quivering flower,
We catch Love's rustle as she gently sweeps
Like Spring's own breath athwart the plains.

Another song is;