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Monday, December 30, 2013

Dont Know

dont know The New Colossus Not like the sleazy giant of Greek fame, With conquering limbs astride from grime to world; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame Is the imprisoned lightning, and her regorge Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command The air-bridged finish that twin cities frame. Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp! cries she With soundless lips. Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The low refuse of your teeming shore.
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