She sits now, for a while, quietly mourning her dead.
Yet her lamp is still lit, and the masses still come.
A day in September forever marks her calendar.
Her children run quickly now to war, yet once more.
At times like this, people will question her again.
Why are you here? What do you hope for?
What is her American land like, where she lives?
Why do they all come? Why does she still care?
Oh, her people are no more noble, nor patriotic.
They are no more kind, nor giving in sacrifice.
They are no more wise, nor brave than others,
Who live in their own fair lands with patriot pride.
What makes her land different than theirs?
She lives here! The people of the world know it.
She has patiently stood for so many years
Beside the open door, that golden door.
Raising her lamp of hope, silently inviting them in.
They still come to her, watching her as they enter.
They come with bright hope, of freedom from fear.
They flee awful tyranny and hatred, seeking peace.
They come daring to dream of life and prosperity.
Wanting only a place their dreams can take wing.
Some, even here, wish to make us afraid again.
They wish to remove our little Freedoms to speak.
To come and to go, unquestioned and unmolested.
To live and to worship, as we alone chose to do.
She stands to rebuke them, to remind them all.
“Make no law against my children. They are Free.”
History speaks of thee, the writing on thy scroll.
Writ large in letters bold, “Justice, Liberty for all.”
“Send me your tired, your hungry, your poor.
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.
The wretched refuge of your teaming shores.
I lift my lamp beside the golden door.”
Lady Liberty, stand tall. Lift your lamp once again.
Where you are, yet lives Freedom, Liberty, and Hope.