The other day I saw printed in the paper the poem that is written on the base - a little old fashioned but moving sentiments nonetheless. It was written by Emma Lazarus in 1883:
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame
With conquering limbs astride from land to land
Here at our sea-washed 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!"