America Poems: The New Colossus - Poem by Emma Lazarus

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The New Colossus - Poem by Emma Lazarus

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,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

Comments about The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus

  • Chinedu Dike 11/5/2019 5:58:00 PM

    A masterful piece of poetry beautifully conceived and elegantly brought forth with artistic brilliance. Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Sally Plumb Plumb 7/23/2017 10:10:00 AM

    Powerful! Reply

    1 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Francie Lynch 6/24/2017 7:14:00 PM

    Colossal bullshit. Great poem. Reply

    0 person liked.
    5 person did not like.
  • Savita Tyagi 2/5/2017 8:14:00 PM

    A new sign in front of Liberty of Statue
    New Colossus closed for restoration
    Can not accept the tired and desolate
    Hungry and homeless beaten by fate
    Date of opening to be announced soon!
    Reply

    4 person liked.
    0 person did not like.
  • Michael Ryland 9/13/2015 8:09:00 PM

    This used to be what America stood for. No longer. Tragic.

    And, the wording is perfect.
    Reply

    Siddartha Montik (11/12/2016 9:53:00 AM)

    So True..!

    11 person liked.
    7 person did not like.
  • Chinedu Dike 2/1/2015 6:08:00 AM

    A beautiful piece on the Statue Of Liberty - The Symbol of US Freedom. A lovely piece of poetry, penned with insight. Reply

    9 person liked.
    6 person did not like.
  • Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black 3/11/2009 1:34:00 PM

    OR: the wretches refused from distant shores.

    I know it's a very famous poem written by an elite, wealthy person who lived at a time when many starving people from Europe immigrated to the US.I think the original line reflects a certain snobby attitude towards those very poor people even though the poet's intentions may have been veiled and her words cloaked with pity for the unfortunate.
    Reply

    13 person liked.
    28 person did not like.
  • Lorraine Margueritte Gasrel Black 3/11/2009 12:24:00 PM

    I would have written 'wretched refused from your teeming shores'.

    For some reason the term euro-trash was coined from a very simple mistake that could have been easily corrected.The slur may not have been used in Emma's day but people do like to twist things around and take advantage.I'm the oldest daughter of parents who immigrated to the US after WW2 ended became naturalise, lawabiding, tax paying and hardworking moral citizens and someone used that derogatory terminology towards them and any immigrant who have chosen to reached these shores and settle here in our great country.I was born in New York City...so techniclly it makes me a native just like all US citizens of any ancestry of whom respect should be shown.

    I will give this poem a ten but I just feel that it would have given fairer treatment and dignity to all immigrants if it had been worded slightly differently.
    Reply

    11 person liked.
    27 person did not like.
  • Organizied Anarchist 2/1/2007 6:10:00 PM

    No one commented on this? I think it's a great poem, obviously written on the Statue of Liberty. The famous line 'Give me your tired, your poor, /Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free' is quoted tons of places as a symbol of the 'American' spirit of liberty. I just think it's a great line. For some reason, 'huddled masses yearning to breathe free' is very discriptive language to me and it's really beautiful. Reply

    31 person liked.
    12 person did not like.
America Poems
  1. 1. Let America Be America Again
    Langston Hughes
  2. 2. On Being Brought From Africa To America
    Phillis Wheatley
  3. 3. America
    Claude McKay
  4. 4. America The Beautiful
    Katharine Lee Bates
  5. 5. I Hear America Singing
    Walt Whitman
  6. 6. A Farewell To America To Mrs. S. W.
    Phillis Wheatley
  7. 7. America, A Prophecy
    William Blake
  8. 8. America For Me
    Henry Van Dyke
  9. 9. A Prophecy: To George Keats In America
    John Keats
  10. 10. America
    Henry Van Dyke
  11. 11. America
    Herman Melville
  12. 12. One Song, America, Before I Go
    Walt Whitman
  13. 13. A Message To America
    Alan Seeger
  14. 14. Long, Too Long America
    Walt Whitman
  15. 15. America
    Robert Creeley
  16. 16. America, America!
    Delmore Schwartz
  17. 17. ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ' ..
    Dónall Dempsey
  18. 18. America
    Gertrude Stein
  19. 19. America
    Olivia Taylor
  20. 20. America
    William Cullen Bryant
  21. 21. America To England
    Katharine Lee Bates
  22. 22. *america - *
    Louie Levy
  23. 23. God Bless Us (America America America ..
    Udiah (witness to Yah)
  24. 24. America
    Edgar Lee Masters
  25. 25. The Greatest Thing In North America
    Delmore Schwartz
  26. 26. Circular From America
    George Barker
  27. 27. To Walt Whitman In America
    Algernon Charles Swinburne
  28. 28. England To America
    Katharine Lee Bates
  29. 29. America Is An Idea
    Lonnie Hicks
  30. 30. America Politica Historia, In Spontaneity
    Gregory Corso
  31. 31. America In 1804
    Edgar Lee Masters
  32. 32. Concept Of America (America America Am..
    Udiah (witness to Yah)
  33. 33. Song Of America
    Ella Wheeler Wilcox
  34. 34. America In 1904
    Edgar Lee Masters
  35. 35. America, The Good Neighbour
    Herbert Nehrlich
  36. 36. Part 1 Of Trout Fishing In America
    Richard Brautigan
  37. 37. A Poem, On The Rising Glory Of America
    Hugh Henry Brackenridge
  38. 38. I Too, Sing America (Inspired By Langsto..
    Vaida Marea
  39. 39. America
    Sydney Thompson Dobell
  40. 40. Part 3 Of Trout Fishing In America
    Richard Brautigan
  41. 41. America Politico
    JOE POEWHIT
  42. 42. America To Russia
    Oliver Wendell Holmes
  43. 43. Part 2 Of Trout Fishing In America
    Richard Brautigan
  44. 44. Part 10 Of Trout Fishing In America
    Richard Brautigan
  45. 45. A Soldier To America.
    JOSE MURGUIA
  46. 46. What Does America Need To Do To Survive?
    Lonnie Hicks
  47. 47. Z-The Muse- Whither America?
    Lonnie Hicks
  48. 48. Part 6 Of Trout Fishing In America
    Richard Brautigan
  49. 49. Part 7 Of Trout Fishing In America
    Richard Brautigan
  50. 50. God Blessed America
    winter lees

New America Poems

  1. Not A Single Person Owns America, Hebert Logerie
  2. America Is, David Welch
  3. Glad That I Live In America, Randy McClave
  4. Woe Unto America! (Part 2), Dominic Windram
  5. Woe Unto America! (Part 1), Dominic Windram
  6. Coming This Way, Alexander Julian
  7. Children Should Not Be Mistreated Anywhere, Hebert Logerie
  8. América, ROCÍO CERÓN
  9. Scared Of The Dark, Lore Me34
  10. Is Your Dna Ancient American Or American?, Cherokee Akan Ewe

America Poems

  1. America The Beautiful

    O beautiful for spacious skies, For amber waves of grain, For purple mountain majesties Above the fruited plain! America! America! God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea! O beautiful for pilgrim feet, Whose stern, impassioned stress A thoroughfare for freedom beat Across the wilderness! America! America! God mend thine every flaw, Confirm thy soul in self-control, Thy liberty in law! O beautiful for heroes proved In liberating strife, Who more than self their country loved, And mercy more than life! America! America! May God thy gold refine, Till all success be nobleness, And every gain divine! O beautiful for patriot dream That sees beyond the years Thine alabaster cities gleam Undimmed by human tears! America! America! God shed His grace on thee And crown thy good with brotherhood From sea to shining sea!

  2. I Hear America Singing

    I Hear America singing, the varied carols I hear; Those of mechanics--each one singing his, as it should be, blithe and strong; The carpenter singing his, as he measures his plank or beam, The mason singing his, as he makes ready for work, or leaves off work; The boatman singing what belongs to him in his boat--the deckhand singing on the steamboat deck; The shoemaker singing as he sits on his bench--the hatter singing as he stands; The wood-cutter's song--the ploughboy's, on his way in the morning, or at the noon intermission, or at sundown; The delicious singing of the mother--or of the young wife at work--or of the girl sewing or washing--Each singing what belongs to her, and to none else; The day what belongs to the day--At night, the party of young fellows, robust, friendly, Singing, with open mouths, their strong melodious songs.

  3. America

    Although she feeds me bread of bitterness, And sinks into my throat her tiger's tooth, Stealing my breath of life, I will confess I love this cultured hell that tests my youth! Her vigor flows like tides into my blood, Giving me strength erect against her hate. Her bigness sweeps my being like a flood. Yet as a rebel fronts a king in state, I stand within her walls with not a shred Of terror, malice, not a word of jeer. Darkly I gaze into the days ahead, And see her might and granite wonders there, Beneath the touch of Time's unerring hand, Like priceless treasures sinking in the sand.

  4. Let America Be America Again

    Let America be America again. Let it be the dream it used to be. Let it be the pioneer on the plain Seeking a home where he himself is free. (America never was America to me.) Let America be the dream the dreamers dreamed-- Let it be that great strong land of love Where never kings connive nor tyrants scheme That any man be crushed by one above. (It never was America to me.) O, let my land be a land where Liberty Is crowned with no false patriotic wreath, But opportunity is real, and life is free, Equality is in the air we breathe. (There's never been equality for me, Nor freedom in this "homeland of the free.") Say, who are you that mumbles in the dark? And who are you that draws your veil across the stars? I am the poor white, fooled and pushed apart, I am the Negro bearing slavery's scars. I am the red man driven from the land, I am the immigrant clutching the hope I seek-- And finding only the same old stupid plan Of dog eat dog, of mighty crush the weak. I am the young man, full of strength and hope, Tangled in that ancient endless chain Of profit, power, gain, of grab the land! Of grab the gold! Of grab the ways of satisfying need! Of work the men! Of take the pay! Of owning everything for one's own greed! I am the farmer, bondsman to the soil. I am the worker sold to the machine. I am the Negro, servant to you all. I am the people, humble, hungry, mean-- Hungry yet today despite the dream. Beaten yet today--O, Pioneers! I am the man who never got ahead, The poorest worker bartered through the years. Yet I'm the one who dreamt our basic dream In the Old World while still a serf of kings, Who dreamt a dream so strong, so brave, so true, That even yet its mighty daring sings In every brick and stone, in every furrow turned That's made America the land it has become. O, I'm the man who sailed those early seas In search of what I meant to be my home-- For I'm the one who left dark Ireland's shore, And Poland's plain, and England's grassy lea, And torn from Black Africa's strand I came To build a "homeland of the free." The free? Who said the free? Not me? Surely not me? The millions on relief today? The millions shot down when we strike? The millions who have nothing for our pay? For all the dreams we've dreamed And all the songs we've sung And all the hopes we've held And all the flags we've hung, The millions who have nothing for our pay-- Except the dream that's almost dead today. O, let America be America again-- The land that never has been yet-- And yet must be--the land where every man is free. The land that's mine--the poor man's, Indian's, Negro's, ME-- Who made America, Whose sweat and blood, whose faith and pain, Whose hand at the foundry, whose plow in the rain, Must bring back our mighty dream again. Sure, call me any ugly name you choose-- The steel of freedom does not stain. From those who live like leeches on the people's lives, We must take back our land again, America! O, yes, I say it plain, America never was America to me, And yet I swear this oath-- America will be! Out of the rack and ruin of our gangster death, The rape and rot of graft, and stealth, and lies, We, the people, must redeem The land, the mines, the plants, the rivers. The mountains and the endless plain-- All, all the stretch of these great green states-- And make America again!

  5. On Being Brought From Africa To America

    'Twas mercy brought me from my Pagan land, Taught my benighted soul to understand That there's a God, that there's a Saviour too: Once I redemption neither sought nor knew. Some view our sable race with scornful eye, "Their colour is a diabolic die." Remember, Christians, Negro's, black as Cain, May be refin'd, and join th' angelic train.