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Monday, April 3, 2017

Emma’s Poem: The Voice of the Statue of Liberty, by Linda Glaser, paintings by Claire A. Nivola -- Day 74



Emma Lazarus grew up in comfortable circumstances in a loving family in New York City; she loved to read and write and study languages and literature. As an older adult exploring her German Jewish heritage, she was deeply moved by the anti-Semitic pogroms in Russia in the 1880s. She began to write articles about the immigrant experience, and in a very immediate way she advocated for impoverished Jewish refugees coming to America. Lazarus was asked to write a poem in honor of France’s gift of a large statue for New York Harbor signifying both nations’ commitment to the pursuit of liberty. She thought long and hard about the meaning of the statue to those viewing it, particularly newly arriving immigrants – and what the statue would want to say if she were a real person. Her welcoming poem helped raise money for the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty and was read at its dedication in 1883. Though Lazarus did not live to see the iconic statue installed in 1886, her poem remains on a plaque at the Statue of Liberty and is, along with the statue itself, a moving symbol of America’s commitment to liberty for all. Emma’s Poem: The Voice of the Statue of Liberty, written in gently poetic text by Linda Glaser with detailed, light-filled paintings by Claire A. Nivola, is an affecting picture book introduction to Lazarus and her famous poem “The New Colossus.” Ages 4-9.

The New Colossus

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!"