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