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!'
On second thoughts ...
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!'
On second thoughts ...
Who are ‘they’? To which ‘you’ is he referring?
Who are ‘they’? To which ‘you’ is he referring?