dont know The New Colossus Not like the gaudy giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from grime to pop; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her spew Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged full stop that twin cities frame. Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp! cries she With serene lips. Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The poor refuse of your teeming shore.
Send the se, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I grind away my lamp beside the golden door! Bibliography: ...If you want to get a trenchant essay, order it on our website:
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