3 ms·
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-tos
by run4yourlives 17y ago
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.
Oh, how we've forgotten where we have come from.
- jacquesm 17y agohttp://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_New_Colossus http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_New_Colossus