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                           An Obstacle

I was climbing up a mountain-path/ With many things to do,
Important business of my own,/ And other people's too,
When I ran against a Prejudice/ That quite cut off the view.

My work was such as could not wait,/ My path quite clearly showed,
My strength and time were limited,/ I carried quite a load;
And there that hulking Prejudice/ Sat all across the road.

So I spoke to him politely,/ For he was huge and high,
And begged that he would move a bit/ And let me travel by.
He smiled, but as for moving!--/ He didn't even try.

And then I reasoned quietly/ With that colossal mule:
My time was short--no other path--/ The mountain winds were cool.
I argued like a Solomon;/ He sat there like a fool.

Then I flew into a passion,/ I danced and howled and swore.
I pelted and belabored him/ Till I was stiff and sore;
He got mad as I did--/ But sat there as before.

And then I begged him on my knees;/ I might be kneeling still
If so I hoped to move that mass/ Of obdurate ill-will--
As well invite the monument/ To vacate Bunker Hill!

So I sat before him helpless,/ In an ecstasy of woe--
The mountain mists were rising fast,/ The sun was sinking slow--
When a sudden inspiration came,/ As sudden winds do blow.

I took my hat, I took my stick,/ My load I settled fair,
I approached that awful incubus/ With an absent minded air--
And I walked directly through him,/ As if he wasn't there!

                         --Charlotte Perkins Stetson Gilman, 1898
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