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...
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me...
4 comments:
Hi Jenean!
Such stirring words - never cease to move me. Wonderful photo too!
xxxLOL LOLA:)
hi nora - i love those words too - they ring with such beauty - thanks so much for coming by - always great to have you drop by! have a glorious day!
Those words hit home for me. My mother was the American born daughter of immigrants who fled persecution in late 19th Century Italy and my father was an Italian immigrant who came here, then I was born in America and then he returned to Italy, but then we each make these decisions for ourselves.
I saw your comment on my "Golden Rule" blog and I apologise for my absence. Sadly, my wife of 50+ years is gravely ill and I was suffering from poison sumac, much worse than poison ivy.
Hopefully I will be able to stay in touch, as I think yours is the best blog there is.
oh, please kismet - please don't fret over such trivial things as responses in light of your circumstances - circumstances which i of course improve very soon - thanks so much for taking the time to drop by and especially for leaving such a very nice note - and do come again when you are so inclined - till then -
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