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Naught Is Too Small And Soft To Turn And Sting.
-Emma Lazarus
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Naught Is Too Small And Soft To
Emma Lazarus
Naught Is Too Small And Soft To Turn And Sting.
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Naught Is Too Small And Soft To Turn And Sting.
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Thick February Mists Cling Heavily To The Dead Earth And To Each Leafless Tree, And Closer Down Upon The Hilltops Draw, Dull Forecasts There Of Bright, Sure-coming Spring; Yet The Heart Gathers Hope And Strange Delight From This Dear, Unlovely, Wished-for Sight Of Leaden-misted Twilights Lengthening.
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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.
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