The New Behemoth
Just as the brazen giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A fearless leader with a torch, whose flame Is the unleashed misery, and his name Torment of Exiles. From his warding-hand Burns world-wide scorning; his wild eyes command The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame. “Bring, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries he With blazing lips. “Take back your tired, your poor, ...