Sherry Chandler

The New Colossus

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 lightening, 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, the tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!”

      — Emma Lazarus (1863)

This sonnet was written before construction was begun on the Brooklyn Bridge in 1869 , hence the “air-bridged harbor.” It was written, as you probably know, as part of an effort to raise money for a pedestal for Liberty.

I can remember singing those last 4 1/2 lines in a 4-H Club pageant when I was in 7th or 8th grade (’57-’59). The overblown skit had a lot of drill-team style marching, and I cringe now to think how jingoistic it was. And yet those words went a long way toward forming my concept of this country.

Still the sonnet deserves better, just as the statue deserves better than to be turned into a backdrop for one of George W. Bush’s pageants of leadership.