Classic Poem

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.