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 | |
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!“ | |
— Emma Lazarus | |
The poem: “The New Colossus” inscribed on the Statute of Liberty | |
. | |
On This Day In: | |
2016 | Why Do You Write/Blog? |
2015 | Can Your Repeat The Question, Please? |
2014 | On Faith |
2013 | My Name Is Charles Stein |
2012 | Faiths And Sorcery |
Made And Kept Free | |
2011 | Multi-Source Learning |
Do We Still Listen To Her Silent Lips?
February 11, 2017 by kmabarrett
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