Emma Lazarus

Well-nigh two thousand years hath Israel Suffered the scorn of man for love of God;
Endured the outlaw's ban, the yoke, the rod,
With perfect patience
Empires rose and fell,

In rich Virginian woods,
The scarlet creeper reddens over graves,
Among the solemn trees enlooped with vines;
Heroic spirits haunt the solitudes,—The noble souls of half a million braves,

Look
the round-cheeked moon floats high,
In the glowing August sky,
Quenching all her neighbor stars,

So,
Calchas, on the sacred Palatine,
You thought of Mopsus, and o'er wastes of sea A flower brought your message
I divine (Through my deep art) the kindly mockery That played about your lips and in your eyes,

Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall standA mighty woman with a torch, whose
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her

Here was a man who watched the river flow Past the huge town, one gray November day
Round him in narrow high-piled streets at
The boys made merry as they saw him go,
Murmuring half-loud, with eyes upon the stream,

"The epochs of our life are not in the facts, but in thesilent thought by the wayside as we walk
"—EmersonI
Youth
Sweet empty sky of June without a stain,