The New Colossus [1883]
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."
--Emma Lazarus (1849-1887)
I present to you the sonnet that, for me, represents that which is Good about the American ideal. I'm glad I never studied it at school, because I'm sure I wouldn't have understood it. I would instead know it by rote, as I do so many other declarations that hold no meaning for me.
Like so many things that I reverence, I cannot hope to explain what it means to me; I cannot hope to make you feel as I do. I can only hope that everyone has the sense of wonder and the knowledge of humilty required to stand slack-jawed before an ideal. Without ideals and the courage to strive for them, we are nothing beyond collections of water held in place by dust.
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."
--Emma Lazarus (1849-1887)
I present to you the sonnet that, for me, represents that which is Good about the American ideal. I'm glad I never studied it at school, because I'm sure I wouldn't have understood it. I would instead know it by rote, as I do so many other declarations that hold no meaning for me.
Like so many things that I reverence, I cannot hope to explain what it means to me; I cannot hope to make you feel as I do. I can only hope that everyone has the sense of wonder and the knowledge of humilty required to stand slack-jawed before an ideal. Without ideals and the courage to strive for them, we are nothing beyond collections of water held in place by dust.
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