Treasure Island

Emma Lazarus

(22 July 1849 – 19 November 1887 / New York City / United States)

Quotations

  • ''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.''
    Emma Lazarus (1849-1887), U.S. poet. The New Colossus (l. 1-8). . . America in Poetry. Charles Sullivan, ed. (1988) Harry N. Abrams.
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  • ''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.''
    Emma Lazarus (1849-1887), U.S. poet. The New Colossus.
  • ''"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-tossed, to me;
    I lift my lamp beside the golden door."''
    Emma Lazarus (1849-1887), U.S. poet. The New Colossus (1886). Written for inscription on the Statue of Liberty.
  • ''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 (1849-1887), U.S. poet. The New Colossus (l. 10-14). . . America in Poetry. Charles Sullivan, ed. (1988) Harry N. Abrams.
  • ''Still on Israel's head forlorn,
    Every nation heaps its scorn.''
    Emma Lazarus (1849-1887), U.S. poet. The World's Justice.

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St Michael's Chapel

When the vexed hubbub of our world of gain
Roars round about me as I walk the street,
The myriad noise of Traffic, and the beat
Of Toil's incessant hammer, the fierce strain
Of struggle hand to hand and brain to brain,
Ofttimes a sudden dream my sense will cheat,
The gaudy shops, the sky-piled roofs retreat,
And all at once I stand enthralled again
Within a marble minster over-seas.

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