The next cover of The New Yorker

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One Comment

  1. robin
    Posted February 3, 2017 at 11:38 am | Permalink

    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:
    I lift my lamp beside the golden door.

    …. gone but not forgotten


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