Not like the standing out giant of Greek fame,
with powerful limbs moving from land to land;
Here at our ocean touched, sunset gates that stand
A big powerful woman with a torch, whose flame
is as big as lighting, and her name
Mother of Convicts. From her hand that glows
shines a welcome greeting to everyone; her
eyes demand the air-bridged harbor that identical cities hold together.
"Keep the history of your land alive!" Cries she
with closed quiet lips. "Give me your exhausted,
your poor, your closed spirits desiring to breathe free,
send the hobos for a better life, to a land of your dreams.
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