church, with the ivy
  Climbing the old gray tower, and the quiet graves in the churchyard. 275
  Kind are the people I live with, and dear to me my religion;
  Still my heart is so sad, that I wish myself back in Old England. 
  You will say it is wrong, but I cannot help it:  I almost
  Wish myself back in Old England, I feel so lonely and wretched.”

  Thereupon answered the youth:  “Indeed I do not condemn you; 280
  Stouter hearts than a woman’s have quailed in this terrible winter. 
  Yours is tender and trusting, and needs a stronger to lean on;
  So I have come to you now, with an offer and proffer of marriage
  Made by a good man and true, Miles Standish the Captain of Plymouth!”

  Thus he delivered his message, the dexterous writer of letters,—­ 285
  Did not embellish the theme, nor array it in beautiful phrases,
  But came straight to the point, and blurted it out like a school-boy;
  Even the Captain himself could hardly have said it more bluntly. 
  Mute with amazement and sorrow, Priscilla the Puritan maiden
  Looked into Alden’s face, her eyes dilated with wonder, 290
  Feeling his words like a blow, that stunned her and rendered
      her speechless;
  Till at length she exclaimed, interrupting the ominous silence: 
  “If the great Captain of Plymouth is so very eager to wed me,
  Why does he not come himself, and take the trouble to woo me? 
  If I am not worth the wooing, I surely am not worth the winning!” 295
  Then John Alden began explaining and smoothing the matter,
  Making it worse as he went, by saying the Captain was busy,—­
  Had no time for such things;—­such things! the words grated harshly
  Fell on the ear of Priscilla; and swift as a flash she made answer: 
  “Has he no time for such things, as you call it, before he
      is married, 300
  Would he be likely to find it, or make it, after the wedding? 
  That is the way with you men; you don’t understand us, you cannot. 
  When you have made up your minds, after thinking of this one
      and that one,
  Choosing, selecting, rejecting, comparing one with another,
  Then you make known your desire, with abrupt and sudden avowal, 305
  And are offended and hurt, and indignant, perhaps, that a woman
  Does not respond at once to a love that she never suspected,
  Does not attain at a bound the height to which you have been climbing. 
  This is not right nor just, for surely a woman’s affection
  Is not a thing to be asked for, and had for only the asking. 310
  When one is truly in love, one not only says it, but shows it
  Had he but waited awhile, had he only showed that he loved me,
  Even this Captain of yours—­who knows?—­at last might have won me,
  Old and rough as he is, but now it never can happen.”