Emma Lazarus (1849–1887)

THE PASSION of despair is quelled at last;

The cruel sense of undeservèd wrong,

The wild self-pity, these are also past;

She knows not what may come, but she is strong;

She feels she hath not aught to lose nor gain,

Her patience is the essence of all pain….

There is a deeper pathos in the mild

And settled sorrow of the quiet eyes,

Than in the tumults of the anguish wild,

That made her curse all things beneath the skies;

No question, no reproaches, no complaint,

Hers is the holy calm of some meek saint.