Robert Laurence Binyon
The Shrines Of Old Are Broken Down - Poem by Robert Laurence Binyon
The shrines of old are broken down;
The faiths that knelt at them are dead.
Nothing's strange, and nought unknown:
All's been done and all been said.
Tired of knowledge, now we sigh
For a little mystery.
Yet, howsoever science delves,
A few things still unplumbed remain.
We know all things save ourselves,
Cannot will our joy or pain.
Mysteries our hearts enthral;
And love's the strangest of them all.
Comments about The Shrines Of Old Are Broken Down by Robert Laurence Binyon
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Still I Rise
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Edgar Allan Poe
Stopping By Woods On A Snowy Evening
I Do Not Love You Except Because I Love You