We are of hypocrites made,
Our too familiar tales of huddled masses
and nations fled for futures bright
across the Atlantic's broad blue wings
in hopes that stabilitiy might soon ignite
are too soon forgot, while hatred rings
like a shattreed bell in all our ears
a loud and harpish snarl to smother
the anxious creeping, repressed fears
that bark and howl at all things other
Are we not all of migrants made?
are not we of different threads weaved?
Must our Nation's promise fade,
to bleach out our ethnic tapestry?