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.

Lines 1–6 comprise the poem’s long opening sentence, which introduces the New Colossus by way of a negative comparison. That is, the speaker opens not by describing the figure named in the title, but rather by describing her opposite. The speaker begins by describing a patriarchal figure whose commanding stance reflects a troubling attitude of conquest. In stark contrast to this “brazen giant of Greek fame,” the speaker then introduces a New Colossus. Against the paternalism of the old colossus, this New Colossus is explicitly maternal, for she is the “Mother of Exiles” who are seeking safe harbor. Additionally, the New Colossus doesn’t straddle two pieces of land in a pose of dominance. Rather, she stands tall at the intersection of two rivers, which the speaker describes in idealized terms as “our sea-washed, sunset gates.” As a figure presiding over an intersectional space, the New Colossus’s strength lies in her ability to welcome newcomers and draw them together. The speaker specifically describes her as “a mighty woman,” and the burning flame of her upraised “torch” symbolizes the unifying promise of the American Dream.

               From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.

The poem’s second and somewhat shorter sentence (lines 6–8) develops the idealized image of the New Colossus that was introduced in the longer first sentence. Particularly noteworthy here is the incorporation of three hyphenated compounds. These compounds are notable for the way they elevate Lazarus’s language. For example, the flaming torch first described in lines 4–5 now becomes even more symbolically charged “beacon-hand.” Similarly, the inviting maternal nature of the “Mother of Exiles” is expanded here to provide a “world-wide welcome.” Finally, there is the rather fanciful reference to the “air-bridged harbor” in which the New Colossus stands, conjuring the image of an ethereal realm where all ideals may be realized. These compounds punctuate the poem with moments of emphasis that are also tinged with an ennobling aura of idealism, thus reflecting the promise of a new life in the New World.

“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!”

Lines 9–14 are by far the most famous in the poem, having been frequently recited and set to music. These lines mark a shift in the voice, as the speaker begins to ventriloquize the New Colossus, who otherwise speaks “with silent lips.” Aside from this shift, the rhetorical force of this passage largely stems from Lazarus’s use of a technique known as diacope (die-ACK-uh-pee). This term refers to a type of repetition that involves the recurrence of the same word or phrase, separated by one or more words. Diacope has an especially powerful effect in lists, where the repetition of a parallel structure allows the rhetorical force of the language to accumulate. This is precisely the tactic that Lazarus uses in the final lines of the poem, much of which is organized around the repetition of “your”: “your storied pomp . . . your tired, your poor, / Your huddled masses . . . your teeming shore.” The word your appears five times in just four lines, each time amplifying the speaker’s earnest, maternal desire to provide a safe haven for all of Europe’s exiles. She hopes to lead them to a “golden door,” a symbolic portal to the New World and the promise of a better life.

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