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Description

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!”

Description

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!”