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!"
Emma Lazarus (November 2, 1883)
It's a moving tribute to a young nation*. Dated, yes, but as relevant today as it was then. ----------
On a purely cynical note, until the megalomaniac and his sycophants are voted out or impeached it should read, Love Trumps Hate.
*America is still a punk nation and has a lot of growing up to do - we're throwing a really bad temper tantrum at the moment.
Mare: sticksman1...Hey Terry! Thank you so much for sharing! Thanks to The Fossil Fools and all who helped get the show off the ground with a thoroughly enjoyable performance! I'm excitedly awaiting the release of your set after post winds up!
Sept 28, 2021 2:04:41 GMT