by Emma Lazarus
This sonnet was written in 1883 and, in 1903, was engraved on a bronze plaque and mounted inside the lower level of the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty.
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!'
This sonnet was written in 1883 and, in 1903, was engraved on a bronze plaque and mounted inside the lower level of the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty.
Awesome lines. America has been open to people from all nationalities. ..that's true.May be we should forget the fact that they first drove out the indigenous tribes before settling down as the owners of that land and then playing at the generous host. :-)
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