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