My partner was Anthony Cannon.
Unlike the audacious behemoth of Greek fame,
With massive arms astride from place to place
Here at our magnificent gates shall stand
A powerful woman possesses a torch whose fire
Is the confined lighting, and her name
Mother of Outcasts. From her guiding hand
Glows universal embrace; her easygoing eyes command
The air-bridged haven that dual cities frame.
"Store, aged lands, your storied display!" cries she
With quiet lips. "Yield my your tired, your needy,
Your crowded masses craving to breath free,
The dismal junk of your bustling shore.
Bestow me these, the homeless, disturbed to me,
I raise my light along my golden door!"
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