Your huddled masses yearning to breath free;
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless,
Tempest-tossed 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 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 breath free;
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore,
Send these, the homeless,
Tempest-tossed to me
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
Words by Emma Lazarus
lyrics from the inscription on the Statue of Liberty
bronze life-size replicas of her face and foot
views from the top of the pedestal: looking down at the shadow and then up at the statue
2 comments:
So sad we missed seeing you guys. If you're ever back in the area again please give us a ring.
-Sarah
Ok, we'll have to talk about your trip to the Statue of Liberty. We're hoping to go later this summer with our kids, but Dave isn't sure how they will do. You've just given me hope that we CAN do it with little kids. I know that my Andrew desperately hopes so and he REALLY wants to go see "Lady Liberty" to coin a Patch the Pirate phrase. :)
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