Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, <br />With conquering limbs astride from land to land; <br />Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand <br />A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame <br />Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name <br />Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand <br />Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command <br />The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. <br />"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she <br />With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, <br />Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, <br />The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. <br />Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, <br />I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"<br /><br />Emma Lazarus<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-new-colossus/
