Wilfred Owen

This is the Track

This is the track my life is setting on,
    Spacious the spanless way I wend;
The blackness of darkness may be held for me?
    And barren plunging without end?

Why dare I fear? For other wandering souls
    Burn thro' the night of that far bourne.
And they are light unto themselves; and aureoles
    Self-radiated there are worn.

And when in after-times we make return
    Round solar bounds awhile to run,
They gather many satellites astern
    And turn aside the very sun.