A thought for the Fifth of July

July 3, 2019

“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-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door”

Yeah, sure, okay, whatever.

One Comment

  1. bill dunn says:

    hmmmmmm poetry in the constitution? checking our own family tree I found that the only people who weren’t immigrants were of the Iowa tribe and they have been fighting immigration since 1492. I wonder if they have a poem. probably just a dance.

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