NOT LIKE THE BRAZEN GIANT OF GREAK FAME,
WITH CONQUERING LIMBS ASTRIDE FROM LAND TO LAND ;
HERE AT OUR WIND WASHED, SUNSET GATES SHALL STAND A MIGHTY WOMAN WITH A TOURCH, WHOSE FLAME IS IMPRISIONED LIGHTNING, AND HER NAME MOTHER OF EXILES, FROM HER BECON-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 UR TIRED, YOUR POOR YOUR HUDDLED MASSES YEARNING TO BREATH FREE , THE WRETCHED REFUSE OF YOUR TEEMING SHORE . SEND THESE THE HOMLESS , TENPEST-TOST TO ME, I LIFT MY LAMP BESIDE THE GOLDEN DOOR