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 women with a torch, whose flame is the inmprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles. From her beacon hand glows world wide welcome; her mild eyes comand the air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. "Keep, the ancient lands, you storied pomp!" cries she with silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breath free, The wrecthed refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homless, tempest-tossed to me I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" -Emma Lazarus 1883

I really liked this poem its is welcoming any people saying it does not matter who you are beside me you will have a life of gold? I understand that back when this poem was made immigration wasnt a problem beacuse this was actually trying to say that she is a helping hand, to not be afraid