e glow of the rich earth, the mild
evenings, the warm nights, at the side of one's love, or near
her.

and one of the poems to Frederica says:

The world lies round me buried deep in mist, but
In one glance of thine lies sunshine and happiness.

There is a strong pulse of life--life that overflows into Nature--in
_The Departure_:

To horse! Away, o'er hill and steep,
Into the saddle blithe I spring;
The eve was cradling earth to sleep,
And night upon the mountains hung.
With robes of mist around him set,
The oak like some huge giant stood,
While, with its hundred eyes of jet,
Peer'd darkness from the tangled wood.
Amid a bank of clouds the moon
A sad and troubled glimmer shed;
The wind its chilly wings unclosed,
And whistled wildly round my head.
Night framed a thousand phantoms dire,
Yet did I never droop nor start;
Within my veins what living fire!
What quenchless glow within my heart!

And very like it, though in a minor key, is the Elegy which begins,
'A tender, youthful trouble.'

He tells in _Wahrheit und Dichtung_ how he found comfort for his love
troubles in Frankfort:

They were accustomed to call me, on account of wandering about
the district, the 'wanderer.' In producing that calm for the
mind, which I felt under the open sky, in the valleys, on the
heights, in the fields, and in the woods, the situation of
Frankfort was serviceable.... On the setting in of winter a new
world was revealed to us, since I at once determined to skate....
For this new joyous activity we were also indebted to Klopstock,
to his enthusiasm for this happy species of motion.... To pass a
splendid Sunday thus on the ice did not satisfy us, we continued
in movement late into the night.... The full moon rising from the
clouds, over the wide nocturnal meadows which were frozen into
fields of ice, the night breeze which rustled towards us on our
course, the solemn thunder of the ice which sunk as the water
decreased, the strange echo of our own movements, rendered the
scenes of Ossian just present to our minds.

His attachment, to Lotte, stirred far deeper feelings than the
earlier ones to Frederica and Lilli:

(If I, my own dear Lilli, loved thee not, How should I joy to
view this scene so fair! And yet if I, sweet Lilli, loved thee
not, Should I be happy here or anywhere?)

and drew him correspondingly