I am still a single cynic; she is still Cassandra Brown!
Helen Gray Cone.
FROM THREE FLY LEAVES
AH Phyllis! did I only dare
To hope that, as the years go by,
And you, a maid divinely fair,
The cynosure of every eye,
Have fixed the wandering minds of men,
And found a fare for scores of hearses,
You still will open, now and then,