Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame, with conquering limbs astride from land to land; Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand a mighty woman with a torch, whose flame is the imprisoned lightning, and her name Mother of Exiles.
From her beacon-hand glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command the air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame,
“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!”
Remember. Remember the journey made by every person not native-born to the soil upon which we today stand.
We are a nation of immigrants – with the heritage of some linked to free will and the heritage of others linked to capture. But here we now all stand free.
Unless … Unless hatred wins. Unless bigotry wins. Unless we relearn to view our differences with civility.
Remember. Our real enemies would love to watch us disintegrate from within. Let’s not give them that satisfaction.