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' Give us Your Poor '

" Emma Lazarus’ Famous Poem"
"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!" 
Alphonse February 15, 2014 at 02:33 AM
Reese, Thank for your meaningful comment and please read our 'eastwaves' Blog - 'The Growing Crowd' for a greater understanding behind these public images.

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