A Notion of Immigrants 0
Methinks that Emma Lazarus’s The New Collosus is in sore need of being brought up to date (the edit is italicized).
Herewith I offer an updated version:
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,
And I will assault them in the street.”
If you look carefully, you can find why I recommend the revision.
Hint: Look for the link.
