William Haskell Simpson, whose career as a poet our readers have followed, died at his home in Chicago early in June. Mr. Simpson was active for many years of his life as manager of advertising and later passenger agent of the Santa Fe railway, through whose southwestern expansion he became acquainted with the rich staining of racial color in the New Mexico and Arizona country which he commemorated so delicately in his verse. His book, Along Old Trails, was issued in 1929 by the Houghton Mifflin Company. Last September his latest group of poems honored this magazine.
It may be appropriate to repeat here his lovely elegy, first printed here in January 1920, which says so much in its six short lines:
Pity not the dead --
They are comforted.
Should they wake not
All is forgot.
If they rise again
Love folds them then.
