Proper immigration part 9
"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!'" These words, etched onto the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty, have transcended their origins as a sonnet by Emma Lazarus to become the spiritual credo of American immigration. They are invoked in classrooms and courtrooms, by activists and politicians, as the definitive moral justification for a nation built by newcomers. For generations, ...