Not like the obviously big, popluar Greeks
With awesome legs moving from place to place
Here at our sunset oceans, the borders will stay
A strong lady with a stick with flames, whose fire
Is the captivating light,& her name
Mom of loners. From her shiny hand.
Shines around the world with welcome; her kind eyes order
The bridge at the harbor that the similar cities enclose
"Keep, old lands, your stories are exciting!" she yells
With a quiet moth. "Give me your exhausted, your broke,
Your tightly bounded masses want to stretch.
The dirty refuse your crowded land.
Send the hobos on the rocky ships to me,
I lift my torch next to the border.
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