The Full Poem:
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-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
We once had the strength to stand up against oppression. We once welcomed challenges. We can be that great nation once again. Do not give up hope. Do not allow "the media" or "the state" to skew and manipulate what you know in your heart. Instead of fighting each other, we need to start working together. Remember, once upon a time hard work paid off: Let's get back to that place!