Can someone write a better version of this/update it for 2017. 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 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! "