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Friday, June 15, 2012

THE NEW COLOSSUS BY EMMA LAZARUS(1849-1887)

                                  Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, 
                                  With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
                                  Here at our sea-washed, sunset gets 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!"

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