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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=390110" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Dregs</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">The fire is out, and spent the warmth thereof,<br>(This is the end of every song man sings!)<br>The golden wine is drunk, the dregs remain,<br>Bitter as wormwood and as salt as pain;<br>And health and hope have gone the way of love<br>Into the drear oblivion of lost things.<br>Ghosts go along with us until the end;<br>This was a mistress, this, perhaps, a friend.<br>With pale, indifferent eyes, we sit and wait<br>For the dropped curtain and the closing gate:<br>This is the end of all the songs man sings.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ernest+Christopher+Dowson">Ernest Christopher Dowson</a><div class=q>
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<script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=390110" data-title="Dregs de Ernest Christopher Dowson" data-description="The fire is out, and spent the warmth thereof,
(This is the end of every song man sings!)
The golden wine is drunk, the dregs remain,
Bitter as wormwood and as salt as pain;
And health and hope have gone the way of love
Into the drear oblivion of ..."></div>
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