The Golden Door

         The Golden Door

They stood along the Hudson
And they sang into the winds
A bastion in all their glory
Accomplished by the sons of men

And then there came the caitiffs
Who pose as gentle and benign
They hide behind our freedom
To carry out their evil designs

Their acts forbode not well
For now we suspect every face
Before we could trust our fellows
Now unwilling to give them grace

And still we chide ourselves
For our former indecision
And though our eyes fill with tears
They do not dim our vision.

For our strength is in our resolve
And we will see this through
For evil men committing evil acts
And evil to them will accrue

We are tempted to close our gate
To let no others enter this land
To care for our own within this place
And remove the torch from her hand

But Give me your tired, your poor
The wretched refuse of your shores
Your masses yearning to breathe free
For still, I am the golden door.