dont know The New Colossus Not like the gimcrack giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from grime 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 frame Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged arrest that twin cities frame. Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp! cries she With tranquil lips. Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The woeful refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I organise my lamp beside the golden door! Bibliography: ...If you want to get a effective essay, order it on our website:
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