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"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched
by prionic6 2y ago
"Keep, ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "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!"
- RestlessMind 2y agoIt is 2024 now. Why should we live by the standards of some poem in 1883? If we want society to continue updating its morals, why not update the morals about immigration as well?