The New Colossus

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 flameis 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!"

Poem by Emma Lazarus written in 1883

on a plack inside the statue of Liberty.