Poetry Sunday (04-07-24 edition)

The New Colossus

by Emma Lazarus 

(1849-1887)

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
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.

Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand

“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!”