The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus

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  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!'