Then they sat down and talked of the birds and the beautiful Spring-time,
Talked of their friends at home, and the Mayflower that sailed on the morrow. 
“I have been thinking all day,” said gently the Puritan maiden,
“Dreaming all night, and thinking all day, of the hedge-rows of England,—­
They are in blossom now, and the country is all like a garden;
Thinking of lanes and fields, and the song of the lark and the linnet,
Seeing the village street, and familiar faces of neighbors
Going about as of old, and stopping to gossip together,
And, at the end of the street, the village church, with the ivy
Climbing the old gray tower, and the quiet graves in the churchyard. 
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;
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,—­
Did not embellish the theme, nor array it in beautiful phrases,
But came straight to the point, and blurted it out like a schoolboy;
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,
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!”
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 grating 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,
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,
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.