Dreams

This poem reminds me of why the American Dream exists. This poem is inscribed at the base of the Statue of Liberty. Now, "The 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-tossed to me, 

I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"