Departure of a Poet Of the many living poets it
could, I expect, be said that they never wear batting gloves, but Mr. Edward Blunden is the only one I know who never wears batting gloves while actually batting; he is among the bravest; if not perhaps the best, of occasional cricketers. Off the cricket-field, where he has the air of a martyr determined to take at least one of the lions with him, a gentle, almost diffident manner overlays a character of great strength and integrity. He left England a few days ago for Hongkong, where he is to be Professor of Poetry at the University, and here he will be much missed by many people of all ages. This will be his third journey to the Far East, for he held a professorship in Japan in the 'twenties and was in Tokyo again after the last war under Foreign Office auspices. It will be very nice for his Chinese pupils to have so luminous yet humble a master; but one cannot help regretting that the rewards and amenities of life in Hongkong should so far exceed anything that England can offer to a distinguished poet with a wife and young family to think of.
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