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  • > 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!”

    -The New Colossus (1883) by American poet Emma Lazarus Found at the foot of the Statue of Liberty, NYC.

    solyin