"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! "