Classic Poem

I solve not whence we come or whither go,
Or wherefore this evolving universe,
Whether our stars bring benison or curse,
Or what the origin of weal or woe,
Evil or good; I am environed so
By mystery inscrutable.—Yet worse
I dread my ignorant soul asleep to nurse
Upon the breast of blind Belief, than know
She bides in darkness, nor may comprehend,
By Faith or Science, causes absolute.
Spirit nor Matter, Force, Beginning, End,
Space, Time, nor Motion, may our thought compute;
Unknowable forever, these transcend
Philosophy and strike Religion mute.