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