There is sorrow,
there is
laughter,
As they meet
beyond its
doors;
There are
handclasps and
embraces,
When some leave
for foreign
shores.
There is every
rank and color
As they hurry to
their trains;
Uniforms and
vivid dresses;
Blushing maidens
and their
swains.
There is beauty
in the
structure;
There is
grandeur without
ration;
There is
hospitality in
Kansas City's
Union Station.
--Lizzie Fellows
Heckart. |
A mother stood
there waiting,
A soldier train was due;
She scanned the
crowd for hours,
Her boy was passing through.
When she could
wait no longer
She rushed right past the guards,
And ran on down
the passage
To search out in the yards.
But, at the very
moment
His rank marched in he vowed
He saw his
mother running,
Then lost her in the crowd.
A brown-eyed
sturdy soldier
Was routed for his base,
But when he
missed his
mother
The tears ran down his face.
Oh, why had she
not waited,
And stood in just one place?
--Etta Gruen
Dobbie. |
