what makes u.s. great again
Salerno / Berlin
director:ina chen | executive producer:paul maidowski | associate producer:hong yang | performer:rosalie wanka
this is a perspective on populism. this is a poem on history. this is art on the future. this is a film of...
"The New Colossus" was written in 1883 to raise money for building the Statue of Liberty welcoming immigrants to our country, two years before Donald Trump's grandfather emigrated from Germany to New York City in 1885. Emma Lazarus, one of the first successful Jewish American authors, wrote it after thousands of Jewish refugees fled to New York in the wake of the 1881 Russian pogroms.
The New Colossus \ By Emma Lazarus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
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what makes u.s. great again
Salerno / Berlin
director:ina chen| executive producer:paul maidowski|
associate producer:hong yang| performer:rosalie wanka
this is a perspective on populism. this is a poem on history. this is art on the future. this is a film of...
"The New Colossus" was written in 1883 to raise money for building the Statue of Liberty welcoming immigrants to our country, two years before Donald Trump's grandfather emigrated from Germany to New York City in 1885. Emma Lazarus, one of the first successful Jewish American authors, wrote it after thousands of Jewish refugees fled to New York in the wake of the 1881 Russian pogroms.
The New Colossus \ By Emma Lazarus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
“Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!” cries she
With silent lips. “Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
---