Just like the brazen
giant of Greek fame
With conquering
limbs astride from sea to sea;
Here at our
fear-washed , padlocked gates shall stand
A berserker with a
torch, whose flame
Is a firebolt of
intolerance, and her name
Forsaker of
exiles. From her beacon hand
Glows world-wide
rejection, her wild eyes command
The bridge spanned
harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep ancient
lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent
lips. "We reject your tired,
disdain your poor,
Your huddled masses
yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse
of your teeming shore.
Hinder these, the
homeless, tempest-host, forbid them from me,
I douse my lamp
beside the impermeable door!"
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