not like the brazen giant of Greek fame
With conquering limbs astride form land to land
Here at our sea washed sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman a torch whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightening and here name
Mother of Exiles. From here 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 tied your poor
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these the homeless tempest tostone to me
I life my lamp beside the golden door.
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