Emma Lazarus quotes

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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
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"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
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With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
...
Still on Israel's head forlorn,
Every nation heaps its scorn.
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