<3<3<3 --- > 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!" ---"The New Colossus", Emma Lazarus, 1883