I drew this book from history's sweet shelf,   a tangled tale of heartbreak, courage, pride;   of pioneers with little thought of self   who fought to tame the rugged countryside.     These heroes struggled on in peace and war.   We grew a mighty nation through the years.   Then huddled masses, fled from distant shore,   enriched our land with laughter, toil and tears.     But one dark day we gave the golden crown   of leadership to one who broke our trust,   betrayed our nation, tore convention down,   to satisfy his ego, greed and lust.     Our book grows thick with hate, division, rage;   this seething chapter's done. We turn the page.         Author Notes I am not American. I have used poetic licence for the purpose of this poem. 'huddled masses' line 7 is of course a quote from 'The New Colossus,' the wonderful sonnet penned by American poet Emily Lazarus. The poem is inscribed on a brass plaque inside the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty. The words refer to the large number of immigrants pouring into New York in the 1880s and to immigrants in general. Here is the poem in full: 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!"

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