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.
The Shrines Of Old Are Broken Down
Robert Laurence Binyon
(1)
Poem topics: joy, pain, knowledge, unknown, mystery, remain, broken, tired, strange, save, love, I love you, Print This Poem , Rhyme Scheme
Submit Spanish Translation
Submit German Translation
Submit French Translation
Write your comment about The Shrines Of Old Are Broken Down poem by Robert Laurence Binyon
Best Poems of Robert Laurence Binyon