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 gold...
Until we are all free, we are none of us free.
Give me your tired, your poor,Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.
Send these the homeless tempest toss'd to me. I lift my lamp beside the golden door.