![]() Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!" Emma Lazarus YOUR, POOR. "Give me your tired, your poor, Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, The wretched refuse of your teeming shore. "Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she With silent lips. Press the green 'Direct Download' button only, and the download will take place within two seconds automatically, without any intervention from you. From her beacon hand Glows world-wide welcome her mild eyes command 1111 The air-bridgod harbor that twin cities frame. AUGUST 1986 The New Colossus 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. AUGUST 1986.Īa Bb Cc Dd Ee Ff Gg Hh liJj Kkt.1 Mm Nn OoPp a, Qq Rr SsTt Uu Vv Ww XxYy Zz1234567890&/ECESSC'EUN )11 UPPER AND LOWER CASE THE INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF TYPOGRAPHIC PUBLISHED BY INTERNATIONAL TYPEFACE CORPORATION. ![]() ![]() Aa Bb Cc Dd Ee Ff Gg Hh liJj Kkt.1 Mm Nn OoPp a, Qq Rr SsTt Uu Vv Ww XxYy Zz1234567890&/ECESSC'EUN )11 UPPER AND LOWER CASE THE INTERNATIONAL JOURNAL OF TYPOGRAPHIC PUBLISHED BY INTERNATIONAL TYPEFACE CORPORATION.
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