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