It's not as lustrous as the Greek's brass
Connecting lands like holding hands;
Here by the sea, our entrance stands
A herculean woman with her strong passion
Viewed within a torch, and her name
Mother of Rejects. From her guiding hand
She warmly welcomes anyone; her gentle eyes control
The bridge that lies between the borders of two similar cities,
"Your homelands can have their splendor!" she cries
With unmoving lips. "I'll have you weak,
Your people that want their freedom,
The untouchables at your shore,
Bring those without homes through the sea to me,
I have my light to show you our magnificent door!"
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