In Gleneedle

Go not into Gleneedle,

Not when the moon is new;

Lest you should meet

On silent feet

A youthful ghostly crew—

Go not into Gleneedle.

Sing not within Gleneedle

Lest haply your rude song

Be stifled ere

Its notes you hear

By echoes old and strong

Of others in Gleneedle.

Stay not in fair Gleneedle,

Not when the sun is high;

Lest on your tent

A breath is bent

By callers from the sky

That once stayed in Gleneedle.

I knew them in Gleneedle,

A merry party we

That camped each year

By streamlet clear,

And loved to idolat’ry

The leafy vale Gleneedle.

Not now to old Gleneedle

Go I with boyhood friends,

For of us four

One is no more,

And two at the world’s ends,

Far, far from sweet Gleneedle.

(One copy annotated in W.T.’s hand to change ‘Gleneedle’ to ‘Glen Mona’.)