De Nieuwe Gids. Jaargang 54

[p. 605]

To Lodewijk van Deyssel on his seventy-fifth birthday

Dear Friend, in whom language and feeling blend,
And gracious genius speaks to please not teach,
Yours that rare gift to make of nerveless speech
A thing of plastic power and charm to bend
The soul to your own self inward, and to lend
That fuller understanding, each to each,
Which is the flower of friendship, and to reach
Beyond the little hour that soon must end...
That voice, once heard, is never silent... All
The beauty of that tongue you love so much
Is vibrant in each living word, and such
Its strength, once felt, it holds the soul in thrall...
Years pass... and still I hear the rise and fall
Of that warm voice speaking the noblest Dutch.

H.R. Wildermuth.