Our Tarnished Colossus

Mother of Exiles

A New Colossus

by Emma Lazarus

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!”

It’s always good to be reminded of the actual poem that graces Lady Liberty. It’s easily my favorite verse in American history, and I think about it often. In my mind, there is nothing else that defines the hope of America quite like this poem.

Lately, I’ve seen discussion around an interview with some doofus where he twists Lazarus’ sacred words in a weak attempt to bolster cruel and un-American policies mainly rooted in fear. (It’s always fear.) I wish I could say, “we’re better than that,” and believe it. But, I’ve read enough history to know we’re not. That said, we can damn well try to be.

Abraham Lincoln

As a Nation, We Began…

“As a nation, we began by declaring that ‘all men are created equal.’ We now practically read it ‘all men are created equal, except negroes.’ When the Know-Nothings get control, it will read ‘all men are created equal, except negroes, and foreigners, and Catholics.’ When it comes to this I should prefer emigrating to some country where they make no pretense of loving liberty – to Russia, for instance, where despotism can be taken pure, and without the base alloy of hypocrisy.”

Abraham LincolnLetter to Joshua Speed