The of original meaning of what it means to be American.. 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-tossed to me I lift my lamp beside the golden door! 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-tossed to me I lift my lamp beside the golden door!
Posted on: Fri, 01 Nov 2013 22:32:31 +0000
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