| " cries she With silent lips | |
|---|---|
| Benjamin Dolin and Margaret Young, Law and Government Division | Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door! 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 hi how are you doing mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles |
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp! From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
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