Venus of the Louvre

Emma Lazarus

Down the long hall she glistens like a star,

The foam-born mother of Love, transfixed to stone,

Yet none the less immortal, breathing on.

Time's brutal hand hath maimed but could not mar.

When first the enthralled enchantress from afar

Dazzled mine eyes, I saw not her alone,

Serenely poised on her world-worshipped throne,

As when she guided once her dove-drawn car,—

But at her feet a pale, death-stricken Jew,

Her life adorer, sobbed farewell to love.

Here Heine wept! Here still he weeps anew,

Nor ever shall his shadow lift or move,

While mourns one ardent heart, one poet-brain,

For vanished Hellas and Hebraic pain.

1492 by Emma Lazarus
Thou two-faced year, Mother of Change and Fate

Age and Death by Emma Lazarus
Come closer, kind, white, long-familiar friend

By the Waters of Babylon by Emma Lazarus
The Spanish noon is a blaze of azure fire

Chopin by Emma Lazarus
A dream of interlinking hands, of feet

Critic and Poet by Emma Lazarus
No man had ever heard a nightingale

Echoes by Emma Lazarus
Late-born and woman-souled I dare not hope

In Exile by Emma Lazarus

In the Jewish Synagogue at Newport by Emma Lazarus
Here, where the noises of the busy town

Long Island Sound by Emma Lazarus
I see it as it looked one afternoon

The Feast of Lights by Emma Lazarus
Kindle the taper like the steadfast star

The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame

The New Year by Emma Lazarus

The South by Emma Lazarus
Night, and beneath star-blazoned summer skies

To R.W.E. by Emma Lazarus
As when a father dies, his children draw