Gives beauty to the lake and fountain,
Spies over-sea the fires of the mountain;
When thrushes ope their throat, 'tis he that sings,
And he that paints the oriole's fiery wings.
The little Shakespeare in the maiden's heart
Makes Romeo of a plough-boy on his cart;
Opens the eye to Virtue's starlike meed
And gives persuasion to a gentle deed."
Emerson
Not even the starry splendor of Colorado skies or the untold magic of the atmosphere vibrating with unwritten music, pictorial with such scenes as no artist ever put on canvas; not even the scientific achievements in feats of civil and electrical engineering; not even any advancement of the arts and the development of industries, commerce, or economics that bring the general life into increasing harmony with the physical environment,—none of these things, important and significant as they are, touch the profoundest interest of Colorado. For this supreme interest is that of the noble men and women whose lives have left to the state the legacy of their hopes, their efforts, their earnestness, and their faith. "Much is made of the Pilgrim Fathers who landed on Plymouth Rock," editorially remarked the "Denver Republican" in an article on "Pioneers' Day," in June of 1906; "and if there had been phonographs in those days to preserve the record of the speech of one of those old fugitives from European persecution, with what delight the men and women of this generation would listen to the tones which come from the instrument! But, after all, were the Pilgrim Fathers, canonized by nearly three hundred years of tradition, any braver, any more venturesome, any more worthy of honor, than the pioneers who fought Indians and struggled against adverse fortune of every kind while they laid in fear and hope the foundations of this great state?"