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by Emma Lazarus

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!"



Click here to vote for this poem in our “America’s Favorite Poem” contest. At last count “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” was in first place with 24% of the vote.

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