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,
No, not St. Paul and Minneapolis in Minnesota. “Twin cities” here refers to New York and Brooklyn, since the poem was written in 1883, before New York and Brooklyn united to form New York City in 1898. The Brooklyn Bridge merged the two boroughs into a single city. 

The New Colossus