Monday, February 3, 2020

The new colossus

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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