A found poem. Source text: The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus (below)

Not like the wretched refuse commanding our land, 

conquering for fame and pomp, send a woman.

Her name—

Mother of Ancient Land Tempest-tossed.

Send a brazen, 

yearning, 

mighty mother 

of a woman,

her imprisoned lightning breathing free, 

to lift our lamp in welcome 

to the exile, the poor, the tired. 

Her lips shall give our silenced stories to the world.

 

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!”