Do Not Forget Who We Are

Friday, March 31, 2006

The New Colossus
by Emma Lazarus

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!"


Seneca the Younger said...

Yeah, what you said.

terrye said...

I forgotten that part about the land of exiles.

Skookumchuk said...


The Mother of Exiles part is especially good. We may have to revive it soon for the European Jews and the Afghan Christians and reformist Muslim authors and all the rest.