Classic Poem

Come to me, O ye sorrowful and hungry!
Come to me, ye who here are cursed and naked!
All the helpless mothers, mad to see your children
Suffer agonies that cleave the heart asunder!
Come to me, ye weak and pallid children,
Ye who sacrifice your blood for all the lusty!
Aye, to me, starving mob, bring your sorrows!
Come to me, O ye prostitutes and lepers!
All ye thieves, all ye dirty, crawling beggars
Weeping for the bread ye are deprived of!
Come to me, ye who cross the field and cities,
Gnawing at your wrists, and with fits of anger,
Heaping up your breasts with bitter feelings
For the frowning men in coming generations!
Come, yes, come, O eternally forsaken!
Come, and haughty stand with me before the tyrant,
And like iron, facing him with our rebellion,
Steel and iron, yes, and so to be the harder!
I, O mob, am the minstrel of your grievings!
And this voice—roaring like a mad rebellion—
Is your voice—rising from your slimy caverns—
Light and pain—which, uprising to the heavens,
Seem the clamor of your voices in your ragings,
Calling forth all human souls to struggle,
And redeeming all the world from the barbarians!