While browsing the Internet Archive, I came across many Oxford poetry books. I opened the volume covering 1914-1916. I expected war poetry. I found some. A poem about a goblin caught my eye because I’m writing about goblins. I glanced at the author: J.R.R. Tolkien (Exeter). The poem is from 1915, so he was only 23 when he wrote it.
I am off down the road Where the fairy lanterns glowed And the little pretty flittermice are flying: A slender band of grey It runs creepily away And the hedges and the grasses are a-sighing. The air is full of wings, And of blundering beetle- things That warn you with their whirring and their humming. O! I hear the tiny horns Of enchanted leprechauns And the padding feet of many gnomes a-coming! O! the lights: O! the gleams: O! the little tinkly sound O! the rustle of their noiseless little robes: O! the echo of their feet—of their little happy feet: O! their swinging lamps in little starlit globes. I must follow in their train Down the crooked fairy lane Where the coney-rabbits long ago have gone, And where silverly they sing In a moving moonlit ring All a-twinkle with the jewels they have on. They are fading round the turn Where the glow-worms palely burn And the echo of their padding feet is dying! O! it's knocking at my heart— Let me go! O! let me start! For the little magic hours are all a-flying. O! the warmth! O! the hum! O! the colours in the dark! O! the gauzy wings of golden honey-flies! O! the music of their feet—of their dancing goblin feet! O! the magic! O! the sorrow when it dies.
– J.R.R. Tolkien, 1915
You can read more about the poem at the Tolkien Library.