Because we all want to write more poems.
Yet She Stands
Still straight her arm, though weakened now with age,
Her stoic gaze impassively to sea,
The Exiles’ Mother, grateful to breathe free,
Still greets, ignoring petty despots’ rage.
For still the huddled masses teem far shores
And beacon-bearing duty she will keep
As mothers must, a charge as firm as deep:
To beckon in the dark and hold the doors.
Still resolute, her back rebukes the land
Where sons of immigrants forget the routes
So lately traveled by their fathers’ boots,
And clamor now that she should drop her hand.
She’s silent yet, but fierce, and will not yield;
A firm resolve remains her strongest shield.
In re: "The New Colossus" by Emma Lazarus
- Benjamin Gorman's Shared Poems
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