The New Colossus
BY EMMA LAZARUS
- Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
- Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand a mighty woman with a torch,
- whose flame is the imprisoned lightning, and her name mother of Exiles.
- From her beacon-hand glows world-wide welcome;
- her mild eyes command the air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
- "Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!", cries she with silent lips.
- "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
- Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
© 2023